The next morning Foreman Lengling's gayly painted kariol bore away Sylvius Hogg and Hulda, seated comfortably side by side.

There was not room for Joel, as we know already, so the brave fellow trudged along on foot at the horse's head.
The fourteen kilometers that lay between Dal and Moel had no terrors for this untiring walker.
Their route lay along the left bank of the Maan, down the charming valley of the Vesfjorddal--a narrow, heavily wooded valley, watered by a thousand dashing cataracts.

At each turn in the path, too, one saw appearing or disappearing the lofty summit of Gousta, with its two large patches of dazzling snow.
The sky was cloudless, the weather magnificent, the air not too cool, nor the sun too warm.
Strange to say, Sylvius Hogg's face seemed to have become more serene since his departure from the inn, though it is not improbable that his cheerfulness was a trifle forced, so anxious was he that this trip should divert Joel and Hulda from their sorrowful thoughts.
It took them only about two hours and a half to reach Moel, which is situated at the end of Lake Tinn.

Here they were obliged to leave the kariol and take a small boat, for at this point a chain of small lakes begins.

The kariol paused near the little church, at the foot of a water-fall at least five hundred feet in height.