# Dave Porter in the Far North/Chapter 18
#### CHAPTER XVIII
##### IN NORWAY AT LAST

There is no denying the fact that Dave was startled. It was one thing to have Roger missing, it was quite another to have his chum gone and have the berth made up as if it had never been occupied.
"He went to bed—I saw him go," muttered the boy from the country to himself. "Am I dreaming, or what can the matter be?"
The more Dave thought over the affair the more was he puzzled. As quickly as he could, he put on some of his clothing and slipped on his shoes. Then he opened the stateroom door and stepped out into the passageway leading to the main saloon.
There was a dim light burning outside, and nobody appeared to be in sight. Dave looked up and down the passageway eagerly, and even stepped to one of the corners. Then he walked to the main saloon, with its big sofas and easy-chairs, and its grand piano. Not a soul was in sight anywhere.
​"Well, if this isn't the queerest yet," he murmured, and pinched himself, to make certain that he was not dreaming. He walked to one end of the saloon and then to the other, and then started for the stairs leading out on deck.
At that moment there came an extra-heavy gust of wind and the steamer rocked violently. Dave was thrown on his side and fell headlong over the end of a sofa. As he went down he heard several cries, one in a voice that sounded familiar to him.
"That must have been Roger," he told himself. "Where can he be?" And then he called out loudly: "Roger! Roger Morr! Where are you?"
The boat continued to toss and pitch, and now Dave had all he could do to keep his feet. When he reached the entrance to the main deck he was stopped by one of the under officers.
"Too rough to go out there."
"I am looking for my friend," answered Dave, and told of the disappearance of the senator's son.
"Perhaps he's walking in his sleep," suggested the officer.
"That may be it!" cried Dave. "Queer I didn't think of it. He told me he got up once in a great while."
"If he was walking in his sleep the lurching of the boat must have awakened him—if he cried out. ​Maybe he went back to his stateroom," continued the ship's official.
"I'll go back and see."
Not without some difficulty Dave returned to his stateroom. The steamer was pitching and tossing dreadfully, and the wind made a wild whistling sound overhead. He heard the overturning of a table or a chair and the crash of glassware.
"We are going to have a tough night of it," he reasoned. "Guess further sleep will be out of the question."
Hoping he would find his chum in the stateroom, Dave returned to the apartment. Here another surprise was in store for him. The door was locked from the inside. He rapped loudly several times.
"Hello! Who's there?" came in a sleepy voice.
"Roger, is that you? Let me in."
"Dave, I declare! Why, I thought you were in your berth."
The senator's son came to the door and opened it. Dave entered the stateroom, which was dark.
"Roger, where have you been?" he demanded.
"So you knew I went out, did you?" asked the senator's son, in a voice that showed he was vexed. "I thought I went out and came back without your knowing it. I thought you were still in your berth."
​"I got up, made a light, and found you gone—and the berth made up as if you hadn't used it." Dave paused and looked at his chum, who had just lit up.
"Well—er—I might as well tell you. I must have been walking in my sleep," stammered Roger, and got red. "I'm as bad as Shadow Hamilton."
"Well, I hope you didn't steal anything, as he did," added Dave hastily, referring to an unfortunate incident already well known to my old readers.
"I don't think I did—but I don't know where I went."
"You made up your bed, too."
"Did I? That's queer."
"And you don't know where you went at all, Roger?"
"No, I haven't the slightest idea."
"Were you dreaming?"
"I think I was—I'm not sure. It was something about Nick Jasniff—he was trying to take something from me and I got afraid of him. That is all I can remember."
"I thought I heard you scream—when the vessel gave that awful lurch a few minutes ago."
"That woke me up, and I found myself in one of the passageways not far from here. I was dazed by the tumble I received, but got back here all right."
​"After this you had better tie yourself to the bed," was Dave's final remark, and then he turned in again and the light was again extinguished.
But anything more than fitful dozes could not be had. The North Sea is well known for its violent storms during the winter months, and this one proved to be a "corker," as Dave called it afterwards. The waves were lashed into a tremendous fury, and some broke over the steamer's deck with terrific force, one carrying away a twenty-foot section of the forward rail. The high wind was accompanied by a snow that was as fine and hard as salt, and this sifted through every crack the windows and doors afforded.
"No port to-day," said Dave; and he was right. To run close to the Norwegian coast in such a high wind, and with so much snow flying, was dangerous, and they had to remain for twenty-four hours longer at the entrance to Christiania Fjord—fjord being the local name for bay.
But at last the snow stopped coming down and the wind subsided a little, and the steamer headed up the bay to Drobak, located on the east shore of the harbor. Here there was a good deal of floating ice, and plowing among it were vessels of all kinds and sizes, all covered with ice and snow.
"It's wintry enough up here, goodness knows," remarked Roger. "I wonder how far north Christiania is?"
​"I was looking it up on the map," answered Dave. "It is located about sixty degrees north, which is just about the latitude of the lower coast of Greenland."
"What, as far north as that! No wonder it Is cold."
"Don't forget, Roger, that Norway is the Land of the Midnight Sun. At the far north they have a night lasting about three months."
"Well, I don't want such a night as that, just yet."
"No—you might do too much sleep-walking," and Dave grinned.
"Oh, cut that out!" and the face of the senator's son grew red.
"I shan't mention It again."
Dröbak is but a small place, containing less than twenty-five hundred inhabitants, but during the winter all the shipping of the fjord congregates there, and as a consequence the scene was a lively one. The boys were quickly landed, and then from one of the dock officials learned where they could get a train running to the capital. Their baggage had been examined and passed upon by the usual custom officials.
"Well, this is certainly a second-rate railroad," was Dave's comment, as they seated themselves in the stuffy coach and had the door locked upon them. Then the train moved off at a slow rate of ​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 ​David Porter, like my own. He has joined the Lapham-Hausermann Expedition, bound for the interior of Norway."
"Exactly," and the officer looked wise. "Who is this young man?"
"This is my friend, Roger Morr. He is traveling with me for company."
"You are very young to be traveling alone."
"I can't help that. I want to find my father, and do it as soon as I can."
"Is he expecting you?"
"I don't know. I sent him a cablegram, but I do not know if he received it."
"That expedition—do you know anything about it?" asked the officer, shrewdly.
"No, sir—nothing more than what I saw in the English papers."
"Didn't your father tell you anything about it?"
"No, he couldn't." And Dave hesitated.
"Why?"
"Because—well, he doesn't know me—that is, he doesn't know I am alive."
"This is extraordinary, young man!" exclaimed the officer of the police, for such the man was. "I think you had better explain."
"I am in a great hurry, sir," pleaded Dave.
"He wants to catch his father before the expedition leaves Christlania," put in Roger.
"Before it leaves?"
​"Yes."
The police official drew up his shoulders and made a wry face.
"Has it left already?" questioned Dave, eagerly.
"To be sure—four days ago," was the answer, which filled Dave's heart with fresh dismay.