tall a man on so small a pony, and as his long legs nearly touched
the ground he looked like a six-legged centaur.

"Good horse! good horse!" he kept saying. "You will see, Axel, that
there is no more sagacious animal than the Icelandic horse. He is
stopped by neither snow, nor storm, nor impassable roads, nor rocks,
glaciers, or anything. He is courageous, sober, and surefooted. He
never makes a false step, never shies. If there is a river or fiord
to cross (and we shall meet with many) you will see him plunge in at
once, just as if he were amphibious, and gain the opposite bank. But
we must not hurry him; we must let him have his way, and we shall get
on at the rate of thirty miles a day."

"We may; but how about our guide?"

"Oh, never mind him. People like him get over the ground without a
thought. There is so little action in this man that he will never get
tired; and besides, if he wants it, he shall have my horse. I shall
get cramped if I don't have a little action. The arms are all right,
but the legs want exercise."

We were advancing at a rapid pace. The country was already almost a
desert. Here and there was a lonely farm, called a boer built either
of wood, or of sods, or of pieces of lava, looking like a poor beggar
by the wayside. These ruinous huts seemed to solicit charity from
passers-by; and on very small provocation we should have given alms
for the relief of the poor inmates. In this country there were no
roads and paths, and the poor vegetation, however slow, would soon
efface the rare travellers' footsteps.