PELLE THE CONQUEROR

PART I--BOYHOOD

BY MARTIN ANDERSON NEXO

TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISHby Jessie Muir. 

NOTE

When the first part of "Pelle Erobreren" (Pelle the Conqueror)appeared in 1906, its author, Martin Andersen Nexo, was practicallyunknown even in his native country, save to a few literary peoplewho knew that he had written some volumes of stories and a book fullof sunshiny reminiscences from Spain. And even now, after his greatsuccess with "Pelle, " very little is known about the writer. He wasborn in 1869 in one of the poorest quarters of Copenhagen, but spenthis boyhood in his beloved island Bornholm, in the Baltic, in ornear the town, Nexo, from which his final name is derived. There, too, he was a shoemaker's apprentice, like Pelle in the second partof the book, which resembles many great novels in being largelyautobiographical. Later, he gained his livelihood as a bricklayer, until he somehow managed to get to one of the most renowned of our"people's high-schools, " where he studied so effectually that he wasenabled to become a teacher, first at a provincial school, and laterin Copenhagen. 

"Pelle" consists of four parts, each, except perhaps the last, acomplete story in itself. First we have the open-air life of the boyin country surroundings in Bornholm; then the lad's apprenticeshipin a small provincial town not yet invaded by modern industrialismand still innocent of socialism; next the youth's struggles inCopenhagen against employers and authorities; and last the man'sfinal victory in laying the foundation of a garden-city for thebenefit of his fellow-workers. The background everywhere is therapid growth of the labor movement; but social problems are neverobtruded, except, again, in the last part, and the purely humaninterest is always kept well before the reader's eye through varietyof situation and vividness of characterization. The great charm ofthe book seems to me to lie in the fact that the writer knows thepoor from within; he has not studied them as an outsider may, buthas lived with them and felt with them, at once a participant anda keen-eyed spectator. He is no sentimentalist, and so rich is hisimagination that he passes on rapidly from one scene to the next, sketching often in a few pages what another novelist would becontent to work out into long chapters or whole volumes. Hissympathy is of the widest, and he makes us see tragedies behind thelittle comedies, and comedies behind the little tragedies, of theseemingly sordid lives of the working people whom he loves. "Pelle"has conquered the hearts of the reading public of Denmark; there isthat in the book which should conquer also the hearts of a widerpublic than that of the little country in which its author was born. 

OTTO JESPERSEN, Professor of English in the University of Copenhagen. 

GENTOFTE, COPENHAGEN. April, 1913. 

Pelle the Conqueror

I. BOYHOOD

I

It was dawn on the first of May, 1877. From the sea the mist camesweeping in, in a gray trail that lay heavily on the water. Hereand there there was a movement in it; it seemed about to lift, butclosed in again, leaving only a strip of shore with two old boatslying keel uppermost upon it. The prow of a third boat and a bitof breakwater showed dimly in the mist a few paces off. At definiteintervals a smooth, gray wave came gliding out of the mist up overthe rustling shingle, and then withdrew again; it was as if somegreat animal lay hidden out there in the fog, and lapped at theland. 

A couple of hungry crows were busy with a black, inflated objectdown there, probably the carcass of a dog. Each time a wave glidedin, they rose and hovered a few feet up in the air with their legsextended straight down toward their booty, as if held by someinvisible attachment. When the water retreated, they dropped downand buried their heads in the carrion, but kept their wings spread, ready to rise before the next advancing wave. This was repeated withthe regularity of clock-work. 

A shout came vibrating in from the harbor, and a little while afterthe heavy sound of oars working over the edge of a boat. The soundgrew more distant and at last ceased; but then a bell began toring--it must have been at the end of the mole--and out of thedistance, into which the beat of the oars had disappeared, came theanswering sound of a horn. They continued to answer one another fora couple of minutes. 

The town was invisible, but now and then the silence there wasbroken by the iron tramp of a quarryman upon the stone paving. Fora long time the regular beat of his footsteps could be heard, untilit suddenly ceased as he turned some corner or other. Then a doorwas opened, followed by the sound of a loud morning yawn; andsomeone began to sweep the pavement. Windows were opened here andthere, out of which floated various sounds to greet the gray day. A woman's sharp voice was heard scolding, then short, smart slapsand the crying of a child. A shoemaker began beating leather, andas he worked fell to singing a hymn--

 "But One is worthy of our hymn, O brothers: The Lamb on Whom the sins of all men lay. "

The tune was one of Mendelssohn's "Songs without Words. "

Upon the bench under the church wall sat a boat's crew with theirgaze turned seaward. They were leaning forward and smoking, withhands clasped between their knees. All three wore ear-rings as apreventive of colds and other evils, and all sat in exactly thesame position, as if the one were afraid of making himself in thevery least different from the others. 

A traveller came sauntering down from the hotel, and approachedthe fishermen. He had his coat-collar turned up, and shivered inthe chill morning air. "Is anything the matter?" he asked civilly, raising his cap. His voice sounded gruff. 

One of the fishermen moved his hand slightly in the direction ofhis head-gear. He was the head man of the boat's crew. The othersgazed straight before them without moving a muscle. 

"I mean, as the bell's ringing and the pilot-boat's out blowing herhorn, " the traveller went on. "Are they expecting a ship?"

"May be. You never can tell!" answered the head man unapproachably. 

The stranger looked as if he were deeply insulted, but restrainedhimself. It was only their usual secretiveness, their inveteratedistrust of every one who did not speak their dialect and lookexactly like themselves. They sat there inwardly uneasy in spiteof their wooden exterior, stealing glances at him when he was notlooking, and wishing him at Jericho. He felt tempted to tease thema little. 

"Dear me! Perhaps it's a secret?" he said, laughing. 

"Not that I know of, " answered the fisherman cautiously. 

"Well, of course I don't expect anything for nothing! And besidesit wears out your talking-apparatus to be continually opening andshutting it. How much do you generally get?" He took out his purse;it was his intention to insult them now. 

The other fishermen threw stolen glances at their leader. If onlyhe did not run them aground!

The head man took his pipe out of his mouth and turned to hiscompanions: "No, as I was saying, there are some folks that havenothing to do but go about and be clever. " He warned them with hiseyes, the expression of his face was wooden. His companions nodded. They enjoyed the situation, as the commercial traveller could seefrom their doltish looks. 

He was enraged. Here he was, being treated as if he were air andmade fun of! "Confound you fellows! Haven't you even learnt as muchas to give a civil answer to a civil question?" he said angrily. 

The fishermen looked backward and forward at one another, takingmute counsel. 

"No, but I tell you what it is! She must come some time, " saidthe head man at last. 

"What 'she'?"

"The steamer, of course. And she generally comes about this time. Now you've got it!"

"Naturally--of course! But isn't it a little unwise to speak so loudabout it?" jeered the traveller. 

The fishermen had turned their backs on him, and were scraping outtheir pipes. 

"We're not quite so free with our speech here as some people, andyet we make our living, " said the head man to the others. Theygrowled their approval. 

As the stranger wandered on down the harbor hill, the fishermenlooked after him with a feeling of relief. "What a talker!" saidone. "He wanted to show off a bit, but you gave him what he won'tforget in a hurry. "

"Yes, I think it touched him on the raw, all right, " answered theman, with pride. "It's these fine gentlemen you need to be mostcareful of. "

Half-way down the harbor hill, an inn-keeper stood at his dooryawning. The morning stroller repeated his question to him, andreceived an immediate answer, the man being a Copenhagener. 

"Well, you see we're expecting the steamer from Ystad today, witha big cargo of slaves--cheap Swedish laborers, that's to say, wholive on black bread and salt herrings, and do the work of three. They ought to be flogged with red-hot icicles, that sort, and thebrutes of farmers, too! You won't take a little early morning glassof something, I suppose?"

"No, thank you, I think not--so early. "

"Very well, please yourself. "

Down at the harbor a number of farmers' carts were already standing, and fresh ones arrived at full gallop every minute. The newcomersguided their teams as far to the front as possible, examined theirneighbors' horses with a critical eye, and settled themselves intoa half-doze, with their fur collars turned up about their ears. Custom-house men in uniform, and pilots, looking like monsterpenguins, wandered restlessly about, peering out to sea andlistening. Every moment the bell at the end of the mole rang, andwas answered by the pilot-boat's horn somewhere out in the fog overthe sea, with a long, dreary hoot, like the howl of some sufferinganimal. 

"What was that noise?" asked a farmer who had just come, catching upthe reins in fear. His fear communicated itself to his horses, andthey stood trembling with heads raised listening in the directionof the sea, with questioning terror in their eyes. 

"It was only the sea-serpent, " answered a custom-house officer. "Healways suffers from wind in this foggy weather. He's a wind-sucker, you see. " And the custom-house men put their heads together andgrinned. 

Merry sailors dressed in blue with white handkerchiefs round theirnecks went about patting the horses, or pricking their nostrils witha straw to make them rear. When the farmers woke up and scolded, they laughed with delight, and sang--

 "A sailor he must go through A deal more bad than good, good, good!"

A big pilot, in an Iceland vest and woollen gloves, was rushinganxiously about with a megaphone in his hand, growling like anuneasy bear. Now and then he climbed up on the molehead, putthe megaphone to his mouth, and roared out over the water:"Do--you--hear--any--thing?" The roar went on for a long time outupon the long swells, up and down, leaving behind it an oppressivesilence, until it suddenly returned from the town above, in theshape of a confused babble that made people laugh. 

"N-o-o!" was heard a little while after in a thin and long-drawn-outcry from the sea; and again the horn was heard, a long, hoarse soundthat came rocking in on the waves, and burst gurgling in the splashunder the wharf and on the slips. 

The farmers were out of it all. They dozed a little or sat flickingtheir whips to pass the time. But every one else was in a state ofsuspense. A number of people had gradually gathered about the harbor--fishermen, sailors waiting to be hired, and master-artisans whowere too restless to stay in their workshop. They came down in theirleather aprons, and began at once to discuss the situation; theyused nautical expressions, most of them having been at sea in theiryouth. The coming of the steamer was always an event that broughtpeople to the harbor; but to-day she had a great many people onboard, and she was already an hour behind time. The dangerous fogkept the suspense at high pressure; but as the time passed, theexcitement gave place to a feeling of dull oppression. Fog is theseaman's worst enemy, and there were many unpleasant possibilities. On the best supposition the ship had gone inshore too far northor south, and now lay somewhere out at sea hooting and heavingthe lead, without daring to move. One could imagine the captainstorming and the sailors hurrying here and there, lithe and agileas cats. Stop!--Half-speed ahead! Stop!--Half-speed astern! Thefirst engineer would be at the engine himself, gray with nervousexcitement. Down in the engine-room, where they knew nothing at all, they would strain their ears painfully for any sound, and all tono purpose. But up on deck every man would be on the alert for hislife; the helmsman wet with the sweat of his anxiety to watch everymovement of the captain's directing hand, and the look-out on theforecastle peering and listening into the fog until he could hearhis own heart beat, while the suspense held every man on deck ontenterhooks, and the fog-horn hooted its warning. But perhaps theship had already gone to the bottom!

Every one knew it all; every man had in some way or other beenthrough this overcharged suspense--as cabin-boy, stoker, captain, cook--and felt something of it again now. Only the farmers wereunaffected by it; they dozed, woke up with a jerk, and yawnedaudibly. 

The seafarers and the peasants always had a difficulty in keepingon peaceable terms with one another; they were as different as landand sea. But to-day the indifferent attitude of the peasants madethe sea-folk eye them with suppressed rage. The fat pilot hadalready had several altercations with them for being in his way;and when one of them laid himself open to criticism, he was downupon him in an instant. It was an elderly farmer, who woke from hisnap with a start, as his head fell forward, and impatiently took outhis watch and looked at it. 

"It's getting rather late, " he said. "The captain can't find hisstall to-day. "

"More likely he's dropped into an inn on the way!" said the pilot, his eyes gleaming with malice. 

"Very likely, " answered the farmer, without for the moment realizingthe nature of the paths of the sea. His auditors laughed exultingly, and passed the mistake on to their neighbors, and people crowdedround the unfortunate man, while some one cried: "How many innsare there between this and Sweden?"

"Yes, it's too easy to get hold of liquids out there, that's theworst of it, " the pilot went on. "But for that any booby couldmanage a ship. He's only got to keep well to the right of MadsHansen's farm, and he's got a straight road before him. And thedeuce of a fine road! Telegraph-wires and ditches and a row ofpoplars on each side--just improved by the local board. You've justgot to wipe the porridge off your mustache, kiss the old woman, andclimb up on to the bridge, and there you are! Has the engine beenoiled, Hans? Right away, then, off we go; hand me my best whip!" Heimitated the peasants' manner of speech. "Be careful about the inns, Dad!" he added in a shrill falsetto. There were peals of laughter, that had an evil sound in the prevailing depression. 

The farmer sat quite still under the deluge, only lowering his heada little. When the laughter had almost died away, he pointed at thepilot with his whip, and remarked to the bystanders--

"That's a wonderful clever kid for his age! Whose father art thou, my boy?" he went on, turning to the pilot. 

This raised a laugh, and the thick-necked pilot swelled with rage. He seized hold of the body of the cart and shook it so that thefarmer had a difficulty in keeping his seat. "You miserable oldclodhopper, you pig-breeder, you dung-carter!" he roared. "What doyou mean by coming here and saying 'thou' to grown-up people andcalling them 'boy'? And giving your opinions on navigation into thebargain! Eh! you lousy old money-grubber! No, if you ever take offyour greasy night-cap to anybody but your parish clerk, then takeit off to the captain who can find his harbor in a fog like this. You can give him my kind regards and say I said so. " And he let goof the cart so suddenly that it swung over to the other side. 

"I may as well take it off to you, as the other doesn't seem ableto find us to-day, " said the farmer with a grin, and took off hisfur cap, disclosing a large bald head. 

"Cover up that great bald pumpkin, or upon my word I'll give itsomething!" cried the pilot, blind with rage, and beginning toclamber up into the cart. 

At that moment, like the thin metallic voice of a telephone, therecame faintly from the sea the words: "We--hear--a--steam--whistle!"

The pilot ran off on to the breakwater, hitting out as he passed atthe farmer's horse, and making it rear. Men cleared a space roundthe mooring-posts, and dragged up the gangways with frantic speed. Carts that had hay in them, as if they were come to fetch cattle, began to move without having anywhere to drive to. Everything was inmotion. Labor-hirers with red noses and cunning eyes, came hurryingdown from the sailors' tavern where they had been keeping themselveswarm. 

Then as if a huge hand had been laid upon the movement, everythingsuddenly stood still again, in strained effort to hear. A far-off, tiny echo of a steam whistle whined somewhere a long way off. Menstole together into groups and stood motionless, listening andsending angry glances at the restless carts. Was it real, or wasit a creation of the heart-felt wishes of so many?

Perhaps a warning to every one that at that moment the ship had goneto the bottom? The sea always sends word of its evil doings; whenthe bread-winner is taken his family hear a shutter creak, or threetaps on the windows that look on to the sea--there are so many ways. 

But now it sounded again, and this time the sound come in littlewaves over the water, the same vibrating, subdued whistle thatlong-tailed ducks make when they rise; it seemed alive. The fog-hornanswered it out in the fairway, and the bell in at the mole-head;then the horn once more, and the steam-whistle in the distance. Soit went on, a guiding line of sound being spun between the land andthe indefinite gray out there, backward and forward. Here on terrafirma one could distinctly feel how out there they were gropingtheir way by the sound. The hoarse whistle slowly increased involume, sounding now a little to the south, now to the north, butgrowing steadily louder. Then other sounds made themselves heard, the heavy scraping of iron against iron, the noise of the screwwhen it was reversed or went on again. 

The pilot-boat glided slowly out of the fog, keeping to the middleof the fairway, and moving slowly inward hooting incessantly. Ittowed by the sound an invisible world behind it, in which hundredsof voices murmured thickly amidst shouting and clanging, andtramping of feet--a world that floated blindly in space close by. Then a shadow began to form in the fog where no one had expected it, and the little steamer made its appearance--looking enormous in thefirst moment of surprise--in the middle of the harbor entrance. 

At this the last remnants of suspense burst and scattered, andevery one had to do something or other to work off the oppression. They seized the heads of the farmers' horses and pushed them back, clapped their hands, attempted jokes, or only laughed noisily whilethey stamped on the stone paving. 

"Good voyage?" asked a score of voices at once. 

"All well!" answered the captain cheerfully. 

And now he, too, has got rid of his incubus, and rolls forth wordsof command; the propeller churns up the water behind, hawsers flythrough the air, and the steam winch starts with a ringing metallicclang, while the vessel works herself broadside in to the wharf. 

Between the forecastle and the bridge, in under the upper deck andthe after, there is a swarm of people, a curiously stupid swarm, like sheep that get up on to one another's backs and look foolish. "What a cargo of cattle!" cries the fat pilot up to the captain, tramping delightedly on the breakwater with his wooden-soled boots. There are sheepskin caps, old military caps, disreputable old rustyhats, and the women's tidy black handkerchiefs. The faces are asdifferent as old, wrinkled pigskin and young, ripening fruit; butwant, and expectancy, and a certain animal greed are visible in allof them. The unfamiliarity of the moment brings a touch of stupidityinto them, as they press forward, or climb up to get a view overtheir neighbors' heads and stare open-mouthed at the land where thewages are said to be so high, and the brandy so uncommonly strong. They see the fat, fur-clad farmers and the men come down to engagelaborers. 

They do not know what to do with themselves, and are always gettingin the way; and the sailors chase them with oaths from side to sideof the vessel, or throw hatches and packages without warning attheir feet. "Look out, you Swedish devil!" cries a sailor who hasto open the iron doors. The Swede backs in bewilderment, but hishand involuntarily flies to his pocket and fingers nervously hisbig pocket-knife. 

The gangway is down, and the two hundred and fifty passengers streamdown it--stone-masons, navvies, maid-servants, male and femaleday-laborers, stablemen, herdsmen, here and there a solitary littlecowherd, and tailors in smart clothes, who keep far away from therest. There are young men straighter and better built than any thatthe island produces, and poor old men more worn with toil and wantthan they ever become here. There are also faces among them thatbear an expression of malice, others sparkling with energy, andothers disfigured with great scars. 

Most of them are in working-clothes and only possess what they standin. Here and there is a man with some tool upon his shoulder--ashovel or a crowbar. Those that have any luggage, get it turnedinside out by the custom-house officers: woven goods are so cheap inSweden. Now and then some girl with an inclination to plumpness hasto put up with the officers' coarse witticisms. There, for instance, is Handsome Sara from Cimrishamn, whom everybody knows. Every autumnshe goes home, and comes again every spring with a figure that atonce makes her the butt of their wit; but Sara, who generally hasa quick temper and a ready tongue, to-day drops her eyes in modestconfusion: she has fourteen yards of cloth wrapped round her underher dress. 

The farmers are wide awake now. Those who dare, leave their horsesand go among the crowd; the others choose their laborers with theireyes, and call them up. Each one takes his man's measure--widthof chest, modest manner, wretchedness; but they are afraid of thescarred and malicious faces, and leave them to the bailiffs on thelarge farms. Offers are made and conditions fixed, and every minuteone or two Swedes climb up into the hay in the back of some cart, and are driven off. 

A little on one side stood an elderly, bent little man with a sackupon his back, holding a boy of eight or nine by the hand; besidethem lay a green chest. They eagerly watched the proceedings, andeach time a cart drove off with some of their countrymen, the boypulled impatiently at the hand of the old man, who answered by areassuring word. The old man examined the farmers one by one withan anxious air, moving his lips as he did so: he was thinking. Hisred, lashless eyes kept watering with the prolonged staring, andhe wiped them with the mouth of the coarse dirty sack. 

"Do you see that one there?" he suddenly asked the boy, pointingto a fat little farmer with apple-cheeks. "I should think he'd bekind to children. Shall we try him, laddie?"

The boy nodded gravely, and they made straight for the farmer. Butwhen he had heard that they were to go together, he would not takethem; the boy was far too little to earn his keep. And it was thesame thing every time. 

It was Lasse Karlsson from Tommelilla in the Ystad district, andhis son Pelle. 

It was not altogether strange to Lasse, for he had been on theisland once before, about ten years ago; but he had been youngerthen, in full vigor it might be said, and had no little boy by thehand, from whom he would not be separated for all the world; thatwas the difference. It was the year that the cow had been drowned inthe marl-pit, and Bengta was preparing for her confinement. Thingslooked bad, but Lasse staked his all on one cast, and used thecouple of krones he got for the hide of the cow to go to Bornholm. When he came back in the autumn, there were three mouths to fill;but then he had a hundred krones to meet the winter with. 

At that time Lasse had been equal to the situation, and he wouldstill straighten his bowed shoulders whenever he thought of thatexploit. Afterward, whenever there were short commons, he would talkof selling the whole affair and going to Bornholm for good. ButBengta's health failed after her late child-bearing, and nothingcame of it, until she died after eight years of suffering, this veryspring. Then Lasse sold their bit of furniture, and made nearly ahundred krones on it; it went in paying the expenses of the longillness, and the house and land belonged to the landlord. A greenchest, that had been part of Bengta's wedding outfit, was the onlything he kept. In it he packed their belongings and a few littlethings of Bengta's, and sent it on in advance to the port with ahorse-dealer who was driving there. Some of the rubbish for whichno one would bid he stuffed into a sack, and with it on his back andthe boy's hand clasped in his, he set out to walk to Ystad, wherethe steamer for Ronne lay. The few coins he had would just pay theirpassage. 

He had been so sure of himself on the way, and had talkedin loud tones to Pelle about the country where the wages wereso incomprehensibly high, and where in some places you got meator cheese to eat with your bread, and always beer, so that thewater-cart in the autumn did not come round for the laborers, butonly for the cattle. And--why, if you liked you could drink ginlike water, it was so cheap; but it was so strong that it knockedyou down at the third pull. They made it from real grain, and notfrom diseased potatoes; and they drank it at every meal. And laddiewould never feel cold there, for they wore wool next their skin, and not this poor linen that the wind blew right through; and alaborer who kept himself could easily make his two krones a day. That was something different from their master's miserable eightyores and finding themselves in everything. 

Pelle had heard the same thing often before--from his father, fromOle and Anders, from Karna and a hundred others who had been there. In the winter, when the air was thick with frost and snow and theneeds of the poor, there was nothing else talked about in the littlevillages at home; and in the minds of those who had not been onthe island themselves, but had only heard the tales about it, theideas produced were as fantastic as the frost-tracery upon thewindow-panes. Pelle was perfectly well aware that even the poorestboys there always wore their best clothes, and ate bread-and-drippingwith sugar on it as often as they liked. There money lay like dirtby the roadside, and the Bornholmers did not even take the troubleto stoop and pick it up; but Pelle meant to pick it up, so thatFather Lasse would have to empty the odds and ends out of the sackand clear out the locked compartment in the green chest to make roomfor it; and even that would be hardly enough. If only they couldbegin! He shook his father's hand impatiently. 

"Yes, yes, " said Lasse, almost in tears. "You mustn't be impatient. "He looked about him irresolutely. Here he was in the midst ofall this splendor, and could not even find a humble situation forhimself and the boy. He could not understand it. Had the whole worldchanged since his time? He trembled to his very finger-tips when thelast cart drove off. For a few minutes he stood staring helplesslyafter it, and then he and the boy together carried the green chestup to a wall, and trudged hand in hand up toward the town. 

Lasse's lips moved as he walked; he was thinking. In an ordinary wayhe thought best when he talked out loud to himself, but to-day allhis faculties were alert, and it was enough only to move his lips. 

As he trudged along, his mental excuses became audible. "Confoundit!" he exclaimed, as he jerked the sack higher up his back. "Itdoesn't do to take the first thing that comes. Lasse's responsiblefor two, and he knows what he wants--so there! It isn't the firsttime he's been abroad! And the best always comes last, you know, laddie. "

Pelle was not paying much attention. He was already consoled, andhis father's words about the best being in store for them, wereto him only a feeble expression for a great truth, namely, thatthe whole world would become theirs, with all that it contained inthe way of wonders. He was already engaged in taking possession ofit, open-mouthed. 

He looked as if he would like to swallow the harbor with all itsships and boats, and the great stacks of timber, where it looked asif there would be holes. This would be a fine place to play in, butthere were no boys! He wondered whether the boys were like those athome; he had seen none yet. Perhaps they had quite a different wayof fighting, but he would manage all right if only they would comeone at a time. There was a big ship right up on land, and they wereskinning it. So ships have ribs, just like cows!

At the wooden shed in the middle of the harbor square, Lasse putdown the sack, and giving the boy a piece of bread and telling himto stay and mind the sack, he went farther up and disappeared. Pellewas very hungry, and holding the bread with both hands he munchedat it greedily. 

When he had picked the last crumbs off his jacket, he set himselfto examine his surroundings. That black stuff in that big pot wastar. He knew it quite well, but had never seen so much at once. Myword! If you fell into that while it was boiling, it would be worseeven than the brimstone pit in hell. And there lay some enormousfish-hooks, just like those that were hanging on thick iron chainsfrom the ships' nostrils. He wondered whether there still livedgiants who could fish with such hooks. Strong John couldn't managethem!

He satisfied himself with his own eyes that the stacks of boardswere really hollow, and that he could easily get down to the bottomof them, if only he had not had the sack to drag about. His fatherhad said he was to mind the sack, and he never let it out of hishands for a moment; as it was too heavy to carry, he had to dragit after him from place to place. 

He discovered a little ship, only just big enough for a man tolie down in, and full of holes bored in the bottom and sides. Heinvestigated the ship-builders' big grind-stone, which was nearlyas tall as a man. There were bent planks lying there, with nailsin them as big as the parish constable's new tether-peg at home. And the thing that ship was tethered to--wasn't it a real cannonthat they had planted?

Pelle saw everything, and examined every single object in theappropriate manner, now only spitting appraisingly upon it, nowkicking it or scratching it with his penknife. If he came acrosssome strange wonder or other, that he could not get into his littlebrain in any other way, he set himself astride on it. 

This was a new world altogether, and Pelle was engaged in makingit his own. Not a shred of it would he leave. If he had had hisplayfellows from Tommelilla here, he would have explained it allto them. My word, how they would stare! But when he went home toSweden again, he would tell them about it, and then he hoped theywould call him a liar. 

He was sitting astride an enormous mast that lay along the timber-yard upon some oak trestles. He kicked his feet together under themast, as he had heard of knights doing in olden days under theirhorses, and imagined himself seizing hold of a ring and liftinghimself, horse and all. He sat on horseback in the midst of hisnewly discovered world, glowing with the pride of conquest, struckthe horse's loins with the flat of his hand, and dug his heels intoits sides, while he shouted a song at the top of his voice. He hadbeen obliged to let go the sack to get up. 

 "Far away in Smaaland the little imps were dancing With ready-loaded pistol and rifle-barrelled gun; All the little devils they played upon the fiddle, But for the grand piano Old Harry was the one. "

In the middle of his noisy joy, he looked up, and immediately burstinto a roar of terror and dropped down on to the wood-shavings. Onthe top of the shed at the place where his father had left him stooda black man and two black, open-mouthed hell-hounds; the man leanedhalf out over the ridge of the roof in a menacing attitude. It wasan old figure-head, but Pelle thought it was Old Harry himself, cometo punish him for his bold song, and he set off at a run up thehill. A little way up he remembered the sack and stopped. He didn'tcare about the sack; and he wouldn't get a thrashing if he did leaveit behind, for Father Lasse never beat him. And that horrid devilwould eat him up at the very least, if he ventured down there again;he could distinctly see how red the nostrils shone, both the devil'sand the dogs'. 

But Pelle still hesitated. His father was so careful of that sack, that he would be sure to be sorry if he lost it--he might even cryas he did when he lost Mother Bengta. For perhaps the first time, the boy was being subjected to one of life's serious tests, andstood--as so many had stood before him--with the choice betweensacrificing himself and sacrificing others. His love for his father, boyish pride, the sense of duty that is the social dower of thepoor--the one thing with the other--determined his choice. He stoodthe test, but not bravely; he howled loudly the whole time, while, with his eyes fixed immovably upon the Evil One and his hell-hounds, he crept back for the sack and then dragged it after him at a quickrun up the street. 

No one is perhaps a hero until the danger is over. But even thenPelle had no opportunity of shuddering at his own courage; for nosooner was he out of the reach of the black man, than his terrortook a new form. What had become of his father? He had said he wouldbe back again directly! Supposing he never came back at all! Perhapshe had gone away so as to get rid of his little boy, who was onlya trouble and made it difficult for him to get a situation. 

Pelle felt despairingly convinced that it must be so, as, crying, he went off with the sack. The same thing had happened to otherchildren with whom he was well acquainted; but they came to thepancake cottage and were quite happy, and Pelle himself would besure to--perhaps find the king and be taken in there and have thelittle princes for his playmates, and his own little palace to livein. But Father Lasse shouldn't have a thing, for now Pelle was angryand vindictive, although he was crying just as unrestrainedly. Hewould let him stand and knock at the door and beg to come in forthree days, and only when he began to cry--no, he would have tolet him in at once, for to see Father Lasse cry hurt him more thananything else in the world. But he shouldn't have a single one ofthe nails Pelle had filled his pockets with down in the timber-yard;and when the king's wife brought them coffee in the morning beforethey were up----

But here both his tears and his happy imaginings ceased, for out ofa tavern at the top of the street came Father Lasse's own livingself. He looked in excellent spirits and held a bottle in his hand. 

"Danish brandy, laddie!" he cried, waving the bottle. "Hats offto the Danish brandy! But what have you been crying for? Oh, youwere afraid? And why were you afraid? Isn't your father's nameLasse--Lasse Karlsson from Kungstorp? And he's not one to quarrelwith; he hits hard, he does, when he's provoked. To come andfrighten good little boys! They'd better look out! Even if thewhole wide world were full of naming devils, Lasse's here and youneedn't be afraid!"

During all this fierce talk he was tenderly wiping the boy's tear-stained cheeks and nose with his rough hand, and taking the sackupon his back again. There was something touchingly feeble abouthis stooping figure, as, boasting and comforting, he trudged downagain to the harbor holding the boy by the hand. He tottered alongin his big waterproof boots, the tabs of which stuck out at the sideand bore an astonishing resemblance to Pelle's ears; out of thegaping pockets of his old winter coat protruded on one side his redpocket-handkerchief, on the other the bottle. He had become a littlelooser in his knee-joints now, and the sack threatened momentarilyto get the upper hand of him, pushing him forward and forcing himto go at a trot down the hill. He looked decrepit, and perhaps hisboastful words helped to produce this effect; but his eyes beamedconfidently, and he smiled down at the boy, who ran along besidehim. 

They drew near to the shed, and Pelle turned cold with fear, forthe black man was still standing there. He went round to the otherside of his father, and tried to pull him out in a wide curve overthe harbor square. "There he is again, " he whimpered. 

"So that's what was after you, is it?" said Lasse, laughingheartily; "and he's made of wood, too! Well, you really are thebravest laddie I ever knew! I should almost think you might besent out to fight a trussed chicken, if you had a stick in yourhand!" Lasse went on laughing, and shook the boy goodnaturedly. But Pelle was ready to sink into the ground with shame. 

Down by the custom-house they met a bailiff who had come too latefor the steamer and had engaged no laborers. He stopped his cartand asked Lasse if he was looking for a place. 

"Yes, we both want one, " answered Lasse, briskly. "We want to beat the same farm--as the fox said to the goose. "

The bailiff was a big, strong man, and Pelle shuddered in admirationof his father who could dare to speak to him so boldly. 

But the great man laughed good-humoredly. "Then I suppose he's to beforeman?" he said, flicking at Pelle with his whip. 

"Yes, he certainly will be some day, " said Lasse, with conviction. 

"He'll probably eat a few bushels of salt first. Well, I'm inwant of a herdsman, and will give you a hundred krones for ayear--although it'll be confounded hard for you to earn them fromwhat I can see. There'll always be a crust of bread for the boy, but of course he'll have to do what little he can. You're hisgrandfather, I suppose?"

"I'm his father--in the sight of God and man, " answered Lasse, proudly. 

"Oh, indeed! Then you must still be fit for something, if you'vecome by him honestly. But climb up, if you know what's for your owngood, for I haven't time to stand here. You won't get such an offerevery day. "

Pelle thought a hundred krones was a fearful amount of money; Lasse, on the contrary, as the older and more sensible, had a feeling thatit was far too little. But, though he was not aware of it yet, theexperiences of the morning had considerably dimmed the brightnessof his outlook on life. On the other hand, the dram had made himreckless and generously-minded. 

"All right then, " he said with a wave of the hand. "But the mastermust understand that we won't have salt herring and porridge threetimes a day. We must have a proper bedroom too--and be free onSundays. " He lifted the sack and the boy up into the cart, and thenclimbed up himself. 

The bailiff laughed. "I see you've been here before, old man. ButI think we shall be able to manage all that. You shall have roastpork stuffed with raisins and rhubarb jelly with pepper on it, justas often as you like to open your mouth. "

They drove down to the quay for the chest, and then out towardthe country again. Lasse, who recognized one thing and another, explained it all in full to the boy, taking a pull at the bottlebetween whiles; but the bailiff must not see this. Pelle was coldand burrowed into the straw, where he crept close up to his father. 

"You take a mouthful, " whispered Lasse, passing the bottle to himcautiously. "But take care that he doesn't see, for he's a sly one. He's a Jute. "

Pelle would not have a dram. "What's a Jute?" he asked in a whisper. 

"A Jute? Good gracious me, laddie, don't you know that? It was theJutes that crucified Christ. That's why they have to wander all overthe world now, and sell flannel and needles, and such-like; and theyalways cheat wherever they go. Don't you remember the one thatcheated Mother Bengta of her beautiful hair? Ah, no, that was beforeyour time. That was a Jute too. He came one day when I wasn't athome, and unpacked all his fine wares--combs and pins with blueglass heads, and the finest head-kerchiefs. Women can't resistsuch trash; they're like what we others are when some one holds abrandy-bottle to our nose. Mother Bengta had no money, but that slydevil said he would give her the finest handkerchief if she wouldlet him cut off just the end of her plait. And then he went and cutit off close up to her head. My goodness, but she was like flintand steel when she was angry! She chased him out of the house witha rake. But he took the plait with him, and the handkerchief wasrubbish, as might have been expected. For the Jutes are cunningdevils, who crucified----" Lasse began at the beginning again. 

Pelle did not pay much attention to his father's soft murmuring. It was something about Mother Bengta, but she was dead now and layin the black earth; she no longer buttoned his under-vest down theback, or warmed his hands when they were cold. So they put raisinsinto roast pork in this country, did they? Money must be as commonas dirt! There was none lying about in the road, and the housesand farms were not so very fine either. But the strangest thing wasthat the earth here was of the same color as that at home, althoughit was a foreign country. He had seen a map in Tommelilla, in whicheach country had a different color. So that was a lie!

Lasse had long since talked himself out, and slept with his headupon the boy's back. He had forgotten to hide the bottle. 

Pelle was just going to push it down into the straw when the bailiff--who as a matter of fact was not a Jute, but a Zeelander--happenedto turn round and caught sight of it. He told the boy to throw itinto the ditch. 

By midday they reached their destination. Lasse awoke as they droveon to the stone paving of the large yard, and groped mechanically inthe straw. But suddenly he recollected where he was, and was soberin an instant. So this was their new home, the only place they hadto stay in and expect anything of on this earth! And as he lookedout over the big yard, where the dinner-bell was just sounding andcalling servants and day-laborers out of all the doors, all hisself-confidence vanished. A despairing feeling of helplessnessoverwhelmed him, and made his face tremble with impotent concernfor his son. 

His hands shook as he clambered down from the wagon; he stoodirresolute and at the mercy of all the inquiring glances from thesteps down to the basement of the big house. They were talkingabout him and the boy, and laughing already. In his confusionhe determined to make as favorable a first impression as possible, and began to take off his cap to each one separately; and the boystood beside him and did the same. They were rather like the clownsat a fair, and the men round the basement steps laughed aloud andbowed in imitation, and then began to call to them; but the bailiffcame out again to the cart, and they quickly disappeared down thesteps. From the house itself there came a far-off, monotonoussound that never left off, and insensibly added to their feelingof depression. 

"Don't stand there playing the fool!" said the bailiff sharply. "Beoff down to the others and get something to eat! You'll have plentyof time to show off your monkey-tricks to them afterwards. "

At these encouraging words, the old man took the boy's hand andwent across to the basement steps with despair in his heart, mourning inwardly for Tommelilla and Kungstorp. Pelle clung closeto him in fear. The unknown had suddenly become an evil monsterin the imagination of both of them. 

Down in the basement passage the strange, persistent sound waslouder, and they both knew that it was that of a woman weeping. 

II

Stone Farm, which for the future was to be Lasse and Pelle's home, was one of the largest farms on the island. But old people knewthat when their grandparents were children, it had been a crofter'scottage where only two horses were kept, and belonged to a certainVevest Koller, a grandson of Jens Kofod, the liberator of Bornholm. During his time, the cottage became a farm. He worked himself todeath on it, and grudged food both for himself and the others. Andthese two things--poor living and land-grabbing--became hereditaryin that family. 

The fields in this part of the island had been rock and heathernot many generations since. Poor people had broken up the ground, and worn themselves out, one set after another, to keep it incultivation. Round about Stone Farm lived only cottagers and menowning two horses, who had bought their land with toil and hunger, and would as soon have thought of selling their parents' grave astheir little property; they stuck to it until they died or somemisfortune overtook them. 

But the Stone Farm family were always wanting to buy and extendtheir property, and their chance only came through their neighbors'misfortunes. Wherever a bad harvest or sickness or ill luck with hisbeasts hit a man hard enough to make him reel, the Kollers bought. Thus Stone Farm grew, and acquired numerous buildings and muchimportance; it became as hard a neighbor as the sea is, when it eatsup the farmer's land, field by field, and nothing can be done tocheck it. First one was eaten up and then another. Every one knewthat his turn would come sooner or later. No one goes to law withthe sea; but all the ills and discomfort that brooded over the poorman's life came from Stone Farm. The powers of darkness dwelt there, and frightened souls pointed to it always. "That's well-manuredland, " the people of the district would say, with a peculiarintonation that held a curse; but they ventured no further. 

The Koller family was not sentimental; it throve capitally in thesinister light that fell upon the farm from so many frightenedminds, and felt it as power. The men were hard drinkers andcard-players; but they never drank so much as to lose sight andfeeling; and if they played away a horse early in the evening, they very likely won two in the course of the night. 

When Lasse and Pelle came to Stone Farm, the older cottagers stillremembered the farmer of their childhood, Janus Koller, the one whodid more to improve things than any one else. In his youth he once, at midnight, fought with the devil up in the church-tower, andovercame him; and after that everything succeeded with him. Whatevermight or might not have been the reason, it is certain that in histime one after another of his neighbors was ruined, and Janus wentround and took over their holdings. If he needed another horse, heplayed for and won it at loo; and it was the same with everything. His greatest pleasure was to break in wild horses, and those whohappened to have been born at midnight on Christmas Eve coulddistinctly see the Evil One sitting on the box beside him andholding the reins. He came to a bad end, as might have beenexpected. One morning early, the horses came galloping home tothe farm, and he was found lying by the roadside with his headsmashed against a tree. 

His son was the last master of Stone Farm of that family. He wasa wild devil, with much that was good in him. If any one differedfrom him, he knocked him down; but he always helped those who gotinto trouble. In this way no one ever left house and home; and ashe had the family fondness for adding to the farm, he bought landup among the rocks and heather. But he wisely let it lie as it was. He attached many to the farm by his assistance, and made them sodependent that they never became free again. His tenants had toleave their own work when he sent for them, and he was never ata loss for cheap labor. The food he provided was scarcely fit forhuman beings, but he always ate of the same dish himself. And thepriest was with him at the last; so there was no fault to find withhis departure from this life. 

He had married twice, but his only child was a daughter by thesecond wife, and there was something not quite right about her. She was a woman at the age of eleven, and made up to any one shemet; but no one dared so much as look at her, for they were afraidof the farmer's gun. Later on she went to the other extreme, anddressed herself up like a man, and went about out on the rocksinstead of busying herself with something at home; and she letno one come near her. 

Kongstrup, the present master of Stone Farm, had come to the islandabout twenty years before, and even now no one could quite make himout. When he first came he used to wander about on the heath and donothing, just as she did; so it was hardly to be wondered at thathe got into trouble and had to marry her. But it was dreadful!

He was a queer fellow; but perhaps that was what people were likewhere he came from? He first had one idea and then another, raisedwages when no one had asked him to, and started stone-quarrying withcontract work. And so he went on with his foolish tricks to beginwith, and let his cottagers do as they liked about coming to workat the farm. He even went so far as to send them home in wet weatherto get in their corn, and let his own stand and be ruined. Butthings went all wrong of course, as might well be imagined, andgradually he had to give in, and abandon all his foolish ideas. 

The people of the district submitted to this condition of dependencewithout a murmur. They had been accustomed, from father to son, togo in and out of the gates of Stone Farm, and do what was requiredof them, as dutifully as if they had been serfs of the land. As aset-off they allowed all their leaning toward the tragic, all theterrors of life and gloomy mysticism, to center round Stone Farm. They let the devil roam about there, play loo with the men for theirsouls, and ravish the women; and they took off their caps morerespectfully to the Stone Farm people than to any one else. 

All this had changed a little as years went on; the sharp points ofthe superstition had been blunted a little. But the bad atmospherethat hangs over large estates--over all great accumulations of whatshould belong to the many--also hung heavy over Stone Farm. It wasthe judgment passed by the people, their only revenge for themselvesand theirs. 

Lasse and Pelle were quickly aware of the oppressive atmosphere, and began to see with the half-frightened eyes of the others, evenbefore they themselves had heard very much. Lasse especially thoughthe could never be quite happy here, because of the heaviness thatalways seemed to surround them. And then that weeping that no onecould quite account for!

All through the long, bright day, the sound of weeping came fromthe rooms of Stone Farm, like the refrain of some sad folk-song. Now at last it had stopped. Lasse was busying himself with littlethings in the lower yard, and he still seemed to have the sound inhis ears. It was sad, so sad, with this continual sound of a womanweeping, as if a child were dead, or as if she were left alone withher shame. And what could there be to weep for, when you had a farmof several hundred acres, and lived in a high house with twentywindows!

 "Riches are nought but a gift from the Lord, But poverty, that is in truth a reward. They who wealth do possess Never know happiness, While the poor man's heart is ever contented!"

So sang Karna over in the dairy, and indeed it was true! If onlyLasse knew where he was to get the money for a new smock-frock forthe little lad, he would never envy any one on this earth; thoughit would be nice to have money for tobacco and a dram now and then, if it was not unfair to any one else. 

Lasse was tidying up the dung-heap. He had finished his midday workin the stable, and was taking his time about it; it was only a jobhe did between whiles. Now and then he glanced furtively up atthe high windows and put a little more energy into his work; butweariness had the upper hand. He would have liked to take a littleafternoon nap, but did not dare. All was quiet on the farm. Pellehad been sent on an errand to the village shop for the kitchen-folk, and all the men were in the fields covering up the last spring corn. Stone Farm was late with this. 

The agricultural pupil now came out of the stable, which he hadentered from the other side, so as to come upon Lasse unexpectedly. The bailiff had sent him. "Is that you, you nasty spy!" mutteredLasse when he saw him. "Some day I'll kill you!" But he took offhis cap with the deepest respect. The tall pupil went up the yardwithout looking at him, and began to talk nonsense with the maidsdown in the wash-house. He wouldn't do that if the men were at home, the scarecrow!

Kongstrup came out on to the steps, and stood for a little whilelooking at the weather; then he went down to the cow-stable. How bighe was! He quite filled the stable doorway. Lasse put down his forkand hastened in in case he was wanted. 

"Well, how are you getting on, old man?" asked the farmer kindly. "Can you manage the work?"

"Oh, yes, I get through it, " answered Lasse; "but that's about all. It's a lot of animals for one man. "

Kongstrup stood feeling the hind quarters of a cow. "You've got theboy to help you, Lasse. Where is he, by the by? I don't see him. "

"He's gone to the village shop for the women-folk. "

"Indeed? Who told him to go?"

"I think it was the mistress herself. "

"H'm. Is it long since he went?"

"Yes, some time. He ought soon to be back now. "

"Get hold of him when he comes, and send him up to me with thethings, will you?"

Pelle was rather frightened at having to go up to the office, andbesides the mistress had told him to keep the bottle well hiddenunder his smock. The room was very high, and on the walls hungsplendid guns; and up upon a shelf stood cigar-boxes, one uponanother, right up to the ceiling, just as if it were a tobacco-shop. But the strangest thing of all was that there was a fire in thestove, now, in the middle of May, and with the window open! It mustbe that they didn't know how to get rid of all their money. Butwherever were the money-chests?

All this and much more Pelle observed while he stood just inside thedoor upon his bare feet, not daring from sheer nervousness to raisehis eyes. Then the farmer turned round in his chair, and drew himtoward him by the collar. "Now let's see what you've got there underyour smock, my little man!" he said kindly. 

"It's brandy, " said Pelle, drawing forth the bottle. "The mistresssaid I wasn't to let any one see it. "

"You're a clever boy, " said Kongstrup, patting him on the cheek. "You'll get on in the world one of these days. Now give me thebottle and I'll take it out to your mistress without letting anyone see. " He laughed heartily. 

Pelle handed him the bottle--_there_ stood money in piles onthe writing-table, thick round two-krone pieces one upon another!Then why didn't Father Lasse get the money in advance that he hadbegged for?

The mistress now came in, and the farmer at once went and shut thewindow. Pelle wanted to go, but she stopped him. "You've got somethings for me, haven't you?" she said. 

"I've received the _things, _" said Kongstrup. "You shall havethem--when the boy's gone. "

But she remained at the door. She would keep the boy there to bea witness that her husband withheld from her things that were tobe used in the kitchen; every one should know it. 

Kongstrup walked up and down and said nothing. Pelle expected hewould strike her, for she called him bad names--much worse thanMother Bengta when Lasse came home merry from Tommelilla. But heonly laughed. "Now that'll do, " he said, leading her away from thedoor, and letting the boy out. 

Lasse did not like it. He had thought the farmer was interfering toprevent them all from making use of the boy, when he so much neededhis help with the cattle; and now it had taken this unfortunateturn!

"And so it was brandy!" he repeated. "Then I can understand it. But I wonder how she dares set upon him like that when it's with_her_ the fault lies. He must be a good sort of fellow. "

"He's fond of drink himself, " said Pelle, who had heard a littleabout the farmer's doings. 

"Yes, but a woman! That's quite another thing. Remember they'refine folk. Well, well, it doesn't become us to find fault with ourbetters; we have enough to do in looking after ourselves. But Ionly hope she won't send you on any more of her errands, or we mayfall between two stools. "

Lasse went to his work. He sighed and shook his head while hedragged the fodder out. He was not at all happy. 

III

There was something exhilarating in the wealth of sunshine thatfilled all space without the accompaniment of corresponding heat. The spring moisture was gone from the air, and the warm haze ofsummer had not yet come. There was only light--light over the greenfields and the sea beyond, light that drew the landscape in clearlines against the blue atmosphere, and breathed a gentle, pleasantwarmth. 

It was a day in the beginning of June--the first real summer day;and it was Sunday. 

Stone Farm lay bathed in sunshine. The clear golden light penetratedeverywhere; and where it could not reach, dark colors trembled likea hot, secret breath out into the light. Open windows and doorslooked like veiled eyes in the midst of the light, and where theroof lay in shadow, it had the appearance of velvet. 

It was quiet up in the big house to-day; it was a day of restfrom wrangling too. 

The large yard was divided into two by a fence, the lower partconsisting in the main of a large, steaming midden, crossed byplanks in various directions, and at the top a few invertedwheelbarrows. A couple of pigs lay half buried in the manure, asleep, and a busy flock of hens were eagerly scattering the pileof horse-dung from the last morning clearance. A large cock stoodin the middle of the flock, directing the work like a bailiff. 

In the upper yard a flock of white pigeons were pecking corn offthe clean stone paving. Outside the open coach-house door, a groomwas examining the dog-cart, while inside stood another groom, polishing the best harness. 

The man at the dog-cart was in shirt-sleeves and newly-polishedtop-boots; he had a youthful, elastic frame, which assumed gracefulattitudes as he worked. He wore his cap on the back of his head, and whistled softly while he cleaned the wheels outside and in, and sent stolen glances down to the wash-house, where, below thewindow, one of the maids was going through her Sunday ablutions, with shoulders and arms bare, and her chemise pushed down belowher bosom. 

The big dairymaid, Karna, went past him to the pump with two largebuckets. As she returned, she splashed some water on to one of hisboots, and he looked up with an oath. She took this as an invitationto stop, and put down her pails with a cautious glance up at thewindows of the big house. 

"You've not had all the sleep you ought to have had, Gustav, " shesaid teasingly, and laughed. 

"Then it isn't your fault, at any rate, " he answered roughly. "Canyou patch my everyday trousers for me to-day?"

"No, thank you! I don't mend for another to get all the pleasantwords!"

"Then you can leave it alone! There are plenty who'll mend for mewithout you!" And he bent again to his work. 

"I'll see if I can get time, " said the big woman meekly. "But I'vegot all the work in the place to do by myself this afternoon; theothers are all going out. "

"Yes, I see Bodil's washing herself, " said Gustav, sending a squirtof tobacco-juice out of his mouth in the direction of the wash-housewindow. "I suppose she's going to meeting, as she's doing it so, thoroughly. "

Karna looked cunning. "She asked to be free because she wanted togo to church. She go to church! I should just like to see her! No, she's going down to the tailor's in the village, and there I supposeshe'll meet Malmberg, a townsman of hers. I wonder she isn't abovehaving anything to do with a married man. "

"She can go on the spree with any one she likes, for all I care, "answered Gustav, kicking the last wheel into place with his foot, while Karna stood looking at him kindly. But the next moment shespied a face behind the curtains up in one of the windows, andhurried off with her pails. Gustav spat contemptuously between histeeth after her. She was really too old for his seventeen years;she must be at least forty; and casting another long look at Bodil, he went across to the coachhouse with oil-can and keys. 

The high white house that closed the yard at its upper end, hadnot been built right among the other buildings, but stood proudlyaloof, unconnected with them except by two strips of wooden paling. It had gables on both sides, and a high basement, in which werethe servants' hall, the maids' bedrooms, the wash-house, themangling-room, and the large storerooms. On the gable looking onto the yard was a clock that did not go. Pelle called the buildingthe Palace, and was not a little proud of being allowed to enterthe basement. The other people on the farm did not give it sucha nice name. 

He was the only one whose awe of the House had nothing sinisterabout it; others regarded it in the light of a hostile fortress. Every one who crossed the paved upper yard, glanced involuntarilyup at the high veiled windows, behind which an eye might secretlybe kept upon all that went on below. It was, a little like passinga row of cannons' mouths--it made one a little unsteady on one'sfeet; and no one crossed the clean pavement unless he was obliged. On the other hand they went freely about the other half of the yard, which was just as much overlooked by the House. 

Down there two of the lads were playing. One of them had seizedthe other's cap and run off with it, and a wild chase ensued, inat one barn-door and out at another all round the yard, to theaccompaniment of mischievous laughter and breathless exclamations. The yard-dog barked with delight and tumbled madly about on itschain in its desire to join in the game. Up by the fence the robberwas overtaken and thrown to the ground; but he managed to toss thecap up into the air, and it descended right in front of the highstone steps of the House. 

"Oh, you mean beast!" exclaimed the owner of the cap, in a voiceof despairing reproach, belaboring the other with the toes of hisboots. "Oh, you wretched bailiff's sneak!" He suddenly stopped andmeasured the distance with an appraising eye. "Will you stand mehalf a pint if I dare go up and fetch the cap?" he asked in awhisper. The other nodded and sat up quickly to see what would comeof it. "Swear? You won't try and back out of it?" he said, liftinghis hand adjuringly. His companion solemnly drew his finger acrosshis throat, as if cutting it, and the oath was taken. The one whohad lost the cap, hitched up his trousers and pulled himselftogether, his whole figure stiffening with determination; then heput his hands upon the fence, vaulted it, and walked with bent headand firm step across the yard, looking like one who had staked hisall upon one card. When he had secured the cap, and turned his backupon the House, he sent a horrible grimace down the yard. 

Bodil now came up from the basement in her best Sunday clothes, witha black silk handkerchief on her head and a hymn-book in her hand. How pretty she was! And brave! She went along the whole length ofthe House and out! But then she could get a kiss from the farmerany day she liked. 

Outside the farm proper lay a number of large and small outbuildings--the calves' stable, the pigsties, the tool-shed, the cart-shedand a smithy that was no longer used. They were all like so manymysteries, with trap-doors that led down to pitch-dark, undergroundbeet and potato cellars, from which, of course, you could get bysecret passages to the strangest places underground, and othertrap-doors that led up to dark lofts, where the most wonderfultreasures were preserved in the form of old lumber. 

But Pelle unfortunately had little time to go into all this. Everyday he had to help his father to look after the cattle, and with solarge a herd, the work was almost beyond their power. If he had amoment's breathing-space, some one was sure to be after him. He hadto fetch water for the laundry girls, to grease the pupil's bootsand run to the village shop for spirits or chewing-tobacco for themen. There was plenty to play with, but no one could bear to see himplaying; they were always whistling for him as if he were a dog. 

He tried to make up for it by turning his work into a game, and inmany instances this was possible. Watering the cattle, for instance, was more fun than any real game, when his father stood out in theyard and pumped, and the boy only had to guide the water from mangerto manger. When thus occupied, he always felt something like a greatengineer. But on the other hand, much of the other work was too hardto be amusing. 

At this moment the boy was wandering about among the outbuildings, where there was no one to hunt him about. The door to the cow-stablestood open, and he could hear the continual munching of the cows, now and then interrupted by a snuff of contentment or the regularrattle of a chain up and down when a cow rubbed its neck upon thepost. There was a sense of security in the sound of his father'swooden shoes up and down the foddering-passage. 

Out of the open half-doors of the smaller outbuildings there camea steamy warmth that smelt pleasantly of calves and pigs. The pigswere hard at work. All through the long sty there was munching andsmacking. One old sow supped up the liquid through the corners ofher mouth, another snuffed and bubbled with her snout along thebottom of the trough to find the rotten potatoes under the liquid. Here and there two pigs were fighting over the trough, and emittingpiercing squeals. The calves put their slobbering noses out at thedoors, gazing into the sunny air and lowing feelingly. One littlefellow, after snuffing up air from the cow-stable in a peculiarlythorough way, turned up his lip in a foolish grin: it was a bull-calf. He laid his chin upon the half-door, and tried to jump over, but Pelle drove him down again. Then he kicked up his hind legs, looked at Pelle out of the corner of his eye, and stood with archedback, lifting his fore and hindquarters alternately with the actionof a rocking-horse. He was light-headed with the sun. 

Down on the pond, ducks and geese stood upon their heads in thewater, flourishing their red legs in the air. And all at once thewhole flock would have an attack of giddy delight in the sunshine, and splash screaming from bank to bank, the last part of the waysliding along the top of the water with a comical wagging of thetail. 

Pelle had promised himself much from this couple of hours that wereto be entirely his own, as his father had given him a holiday untilthe time came for the midday work. But now he stood in bewilderment, overwhelmed by the wealth of possibilities. Would it be the best funto sail upon the pond on two tail-boards laid one across the other?There was a manure-cart lying there now to be washed. Or should hego in and have a game with the tiny calves? Or shoot with the oldbellows in the smithy? If he filled the nozzle with wet earth, andblew hard, quite a nice shot could come out of it. 

Pelle started and tried to make himself invisible. The farmerhimself had come round the corner, and was now standing shadinghis eyes with his hand and looking down over the sloping land andthe sea. When he caught sight of Pelle, he nodded without changinghis expression, and said: "Good day, my boy! How are you gettingon?" He gazed on, and probably hardly knew that he had said it andpatted the boy on the shoulder with the end of his stick; the farmeroften went about half asleep. 

But Pelle felt it as a caress of a divine nature, and immediatelyran across to the stable to tell his father what had happened tohim. He had an elevating sensation in his shoulder as if he had beenknighted; and he still felt the stick there. An intoxicating warmthflowed from the place through his little body, sent the adventuremounting to his head and made him swell with pride. His imaginationrose and soared into the air with some vague, dizzy idea about thefarmer adopting him as his son. 

He soon came down again, for in the stable he ran straight into thearms of the Sunday scrubbing. The Sunday wash was the only greatobjection he had to make to life; everything else came and wasforgotten again, but it was always coming again. He detested it, especially that part of it which had to do with the interior of hisears. But there was no kind mother to help; Lasse stood ready witha bucket of cold water, and some soft soap on a piece of broken pot, and the boy had to divest himself of his clothes. And as if thescrubbing were not enough, he afterwards had to put on a cleanshirt--though, fortunately, only every other Sunday. The whole thingwas nice enough to look back upon afterwards--like something gonethrough with, and not to happen again for a little while. 

Pelle stood at the stable door into the yard with a consequentialair, with bristling hair and clean shirt-sleeves, his hands buriedin his trouser pockets. Over his forehead his hair waved in what iscalled a "cow's lick, " said to betoken good fortune; and his face, all screwed up as it turned towards the bright light, looked theoddest piece of topsy-turvydom, with not a single feature in itsproper place. Pelle bent the calves of his legs out backwards, andstood gently rocking himself to and fro as he saw Gustav doing, upon the front-door steps, where he stood holding the reins, waitingfor his master and mistress. 

The mistress now appeared, with the farmer, and a maid ran down infront to the carriage with a little stepladder, and helped her in. The farmer stood at the top of the steps until she was seated: shehad difficulty in walking. But what a pair of eyes she had! Pellehastily looked away when she turned her face down towards the yard. It was whispered among the men that she could bring misfortune uponany one by looking at him if she liked. Now Gustav unchained thedog, which bounded about, barking, in front of the horses as theydrove out of the courtyard. 

Anyhow the sun did not shine like this on a week-day. It was quitedazzling when the white pigeons flew in one flock over the yard, turning as regularly as if they were a large white sheet flappingin the sunshine; the reflection from their wings flashed over thedung-heap and made the pigs lift their heads with an inquiringgrunt. Above, in their rooms the men sat playing "Sixty-six, " ortipping wooden shoes, and Gustav began to play "Old Noah" on hisconcertina. 

Pelle picked his way across the upper part of the yard to the bigdog-kennel, which could be turned on a pivot according to thedirection of the wind. He seated himself upon the angle of the roof, and made a merry-go-round of it by pushing off with his foot everytime he passed the fence. Suddenly it occurred to him that hehimself was everybody's dog, and had better hide himself; so hedropped down, crept into the kennel, and curled himself up on thestraw with his head between his fore-paws. There he lay for a littlewhile, staring at the fence and panting with his tongue hanging outof his mouth. Then an idea came into his head so suddenly as to makehim forget all caution; and the next moment he was sliding full tiltdown the railing of the front-door steps. 

He had done this seventeen times and was deeply engrossed in thethought of reaching fifty, when he heard a sharp whistle from thebig coach-house door. The farm pupil stood there beckoning him. Pelle, crestfallen, obeyed the call, bitterly regretting histhoughtlessness. He was most likely wanted now to grease bootsagain, perhaps for them all. 

The pupil drew him inside the door, which he shut. It was dark, and the boy, coming in out of the bright daylight, could distinguishnothing; what he made out little by little assumed shapelessoutlines to his frightened imagination. Voices laughed and growledconfusedly in his ears, and hands that seemed to him enormous pulledhim about. Terror seized him, and with it came crazy, disconnectedrecollections of stories of robbery and murder, and he began toscream with fright. A big hand covered the whole of his face, andin the silence that followed his stifled scream, he heard a voiceout in the yard, calling to the maids to come and see somethingfunny. 

He was too paralyzed with terror to know what was being done withhim, and only wondered faintly what there was funny out there inthe sunshine. Would he ever see the sun again, he wondered?

As if in answer to his thought, the door was at that moment thrownopen. The light poured in and he recognized the faces about him, and found himself standing half naked in the full daylight, histrousers down about his heels and his shirt tucked up under hiswaistcoat. The pupil stood at one side with a carriage-whip, withwhich he flicked at the boy's naked body, crying in a tone ofcommand: "Run!" Pelle, wild with terror and confusion, dashed intothe yard, but there stood the maids, and at sight of him theyscreamed with laughter, and he turned to fly back into thecoach-house. But he was met by the whip, and forced to return intothe daylight, leaping like a kangaroo and calling forth renewedshouts of laughter. Then he stood still, crying helplessly, undera shower of coarse remarks, especially from the maids. He no longernoticed the whip, but only crouched down, trying to hide himself, until at last he sank in a heap upon the stone paving, sobbingconvulsively. 

Karna, large of limb, came rushing up from the basement and forcedher way through the crowd, crimson with rage and scolding as shewent. On her freckled neck and arms were brown marks left by thecows' tails at the last milking, looking like a sort of clumsytattooing. She flung her slipper in the pupil's face, and going upto Pelle, wrapped him in her coarse apron and carried him down tothe basement. 

When Lasse heard what had happened to the boy, he took a hammer andwent round to kill the farm pupil; and the look in the old man'seyes was such that no one desired to get in his way. The pupil hadthought his wisest course was to disappear; and when Lasse found novent for his wrath, he fell into a fit of trembling and weeping, andbecame so really ill that the men had to administer a good mouthfulof spirits to revive him. This took instant effect, and Lasse washimself again and able to nod consolingly to the frightened, sobbingPelle. 

"Never mind, laddie!" he said comfortingly. "Never mind! No one hasever yet got off without being punished, and Lasse'll break thatlong limb of Satan's head and make his brains spurt out of his nose;you take my word for it!"

Pelle's face brightened at the prospect of this forcible redress, and he crept up into the loft to throw down the hay for the cattle'smidday meal. Lasse, who was not so fond of climbing, went downthe long passage between the stalls distributing the hay. He wascogitating over something, and Pelle could hear him talking tohimself all the time. When they had finished, Lasse went to thegreen chest and brought out a black silk handkerchief that had beenBengta's Sunday best. His expression was solemn as he called Pelle. 

"Run over to Karna with this and ask her to accept it. We're not sopoor that we should let kindness itself go from us empty-handed. Butyou mustn't let any one see it, in case they didn't like it. MotherBengta in her grave won't be offended; she'd have proposed itherself, if she could have spoken; but her mouth's full of earth, poor thing!" Lasse sighed deeply. 

Even then he stood for a little while with the handkerchief inhis hand before giving it to Pelle to run with. He was by no meansas sure of Bengta as his words made out; but the old man liked tobeautify her memory, both in his own and in the boy's mind. It couldnot be denied that she had generally been a little difficult in acase of this kind, having been particularly jealous; and she mighttake it into her head to haunt them because of that handkerchief. Still she had had a heart for both him and the boy, and it wasgenerally in the right place--they must say that of her! And forthe rest, the Lord must judge her as kindly as He could. 

During the afternoon it was quiet on the farm. Most of the men wereout somewhere, either at the inn or with the quarry-men at thestone-quarry. The master and mistress were out too; the farmer hadordered the carriage directly after dinner and had driven to thetown, and half an hour later his wife set off in the pony-carriage--to keep an eye on him, people said. 

Old Lasse was sitting in an empty cow-stall, mending Pelle'sclothes, while the boy played up and down the foddering passage. He had found in the herdsman's room an old boot-jack, which heplaced under his knee, pretending it was a wooden leg, and allthe time he was chattering happily, but not quite so loudly asusual, to his father. The morning's experience was still fresh inhis mind, and had a subduing effect; it was as if he had performedsome great deed, and was now nervous about it. There was anothercircumstance, too, that helped to make him serious. The bailiffhad been over to say that the animals were to go out the next day. Pelle was to mind the young cattle, so this would be his last freeday, perhaps for the whole summer. 

He paused outside the stall where his father sat. "What are yougoing to kill him with, father?"

"With the hammer, I suppose. "

"Will you kill him quite dead, as dead as a dog?"

Lasse's nod boded ill to the pupil. "Yes, indeed I shall!"

"But who'll read the names for us then?"

The old man shook his head pensively. "That's true enough!" heexclaimed, scratching himself first in one place and then inanother. The name of each cow was written in chalk above its stall, but neither Lasse nor Pelle could read. The bailiff had, indeed, gone through the names with them once, but it was impossible toremember half a hundred names after hearing them once--even forthe boy, who had such an uncommon good memory. If Lasse now killedthe pupil, then who _would_ help them to make out the names?The bailiff would never stand their going to him and asking him asecond time. 

"I suppose we shall have to content ourselves with thrashing him, "said Lasse meditatively. 

The boy went on playing for a little while, and then once more cameup to Lasse. 

"Don't you think the Swedes can thrash all the people in the world, father?"

The old man looked thoughtful. "Ye-es--yes, I should think so. "

"Yes, because Sweden's much bigger than the whole world, isn't it?"

"Yes, it's big, " said Lasse, trying to imagine its extent. Therewere twenty-four provinces, of which Malmohus was only one, andYstad district a small part of that again; and then in one cornerof Ystad district lay Tommelilla, and his holding that he had oncethought so big with its five acres of land, was a tiny little pieceof Tommelilla! Ah, yes, Sweden was big--not bigger than the wholeworld, of course, for that was only childish nonsense--but stillbigger than all the rest of the world put together. "Yes, it's big!But what are you doing, laddie?"

"Why, can't you see I'm a soldier that's had one leg shot off?"

"Oh, you're an old crippled pensioner, are you? But you shouldn'tdo that, for God doesn't like things like that. You might becomea real cripple, and that would be dreadful. "

"Oh, He doesn't see, because He's in the churches to-day!" answeredthe boy; but for safety's sake he thought it better to leave off. Hestationed himself at the stable-door, whistling, but suddenly camerunning in with great eagerness: "Father, there's the Agricultural!Shall I run and fetch the whip?"

"No, I expect we'd better leave him alone. It might be the death ofhim; fine gentlemen scamps like that can't stand a licking. Thefright alone might kill him. " Lasse glanced doubtfully at the boy. 

Pelle looked very much disappointed. "But suppose he does it again?"

"Oh, no, we won't let him off without a good fright. I shall pickhim up and hold him out at arm's length dangling in the air untilhe begs for mercy; and then I shall put him down again just asquietly. For Lasse doesn't like being angry. Lasse's a decentfellow. "

"Then you must pretend to let him go while you're holding him highup in the air; and then he'll scream and think he's going to die, and the others'll come and laugh at him. "

"No, no; you mustn't tempt your father! It might come into my mindto throw him down, and that would be murder and penal servitude forlife, that would! No, I'll just give him a good scolding; that'swhat a classy scoundrel like that'll feel most. "

"Yes, and then you must call him a spindle-shanked clodhopper. That's what the bailiff calls him when he's angry with him. "

"No, I don't think that would do either; but I'll speak so seriouslywith him that he won't be likely to forget it in a hurry. "

Pelle was quite satisfied. There was no one like his father, andof course he would be as good at blowing people up as at everythingelse. He had never heard him do it, and he was looking forward toit immensely while he hobbled along with the boot-jack. He was notusing it as a wooden leg now, for fear of tempting Providence; buthe held it under his arm like a crutch, supporting it on the edgeof the foundation wall, because it was too short. How splendid itwould be to go on two crutches like the parson's son at home! Hecould jump over the very longest puddles. 

There was a sudden movement of light and shadow up under the roof, and when Pelle turned round, he saw a strange boy standing in thedoorway out to the field. He was of the same height as Pelle, buthis head was almost as large as that of a grown man. At first sightit appeared to be bald all over; but when the boy moved in thesun, his bare head shone as if covered with silver scales. It wascovered with fine, whitish hair, which was thinly and fairly evenlydistributed over the face and everywhere else; and his skin waspink, as were the whites of his eyes. His face was all drawn intowrinkles in the strong light, and the back of his head projectedunduly and looked as if it were much too heavy. 

Pelle put his hands in his trouser pockets and went up to him. "What's your name?" he said, and tried to expectorate between hisfront teeth as Gustav was in the habit of doing. The attempt wasa failure, unfortunately, and the saliva only ran down his chin. The strange boy grinned. 

"Rud, " he said, indistinctly, as if his tongue were thick andunmanageable. He was staring enviously at Pelle's trouser pockets. "Is that your father?" he asked, pointing at Lasse. 

"Of course!" said Pelle, consequentially. "And he can thrasheverybody. "

"But my father can buy everybody, because he lives up there. " AndRud pointed toward the big house. 

"Oh, does he really?" said Pelle, incredulously. "Why don't you livethere with him, then?"

"Why, I'm a bastard-child; mother says so herself. "

"The deuce she does!" said Pelle, stealing a glance at his fatheron account of the little oath. 

"Yes, when she's cross. And then she beats me, but then I run awayfrom her. "

"Oh, you do, do you!" said a voice outside. The boys started andretreated farther into the stable, as a big, fat woman appeared inthe doorway, and looked angrily round in the dim light. When shecaught sight of Rud, she continued her scolding. Her accent wasSwedish. 

"So you run away, do you, you cabbage-head! If you'd only run so farthat you couldn't find your way back again, a body wouldn't need towear herself out thrashing a misbegotten imp like you! You'll go tothe devil anyhow, so don't worry yourself about that! So that's theboy's father, is it?" she said, suddenly breaking off as she caughtsight of Lasse. 

"Yes, it is, " said Lasse, quietly. "And surely you must beschoolmaster Johan Pihl's Johanna from Tommelilla, who left thecountry nearly twenty years ago?"

"And surely you must be the smith's tom-cat from Sulitjelma, who hadtwins out of an old wooden shoe the year before last?" retorted thebig woman, imitating his tone of voice. 

"Very well; it doesn't matter to me who you are!" said the old manin an offended tone. "I'm not a police spy. "

"One would think you were from the way you question. Do you knowwhen the cattle are to go out?"

"To-morrow, if all's well. Is it your little boy who's going to showPelle how things go? The bailiff spoke of some one who'd go out withhim and show him the grazing-ground. "

"Yes, it's that Tom Noddy there. Here, come out so that we can seeyou properly, you calf! Oh, the boy's gone. Very well. Does your boyoften get a thrashing?"

"Oh yes, sometimes, " answered Lasse, who was ashamed to confess thathe never chastised the boy. 

"I don't spare mine either. It'll take something to make a man ofsuch rubbish; punishment's half what he lives on. Then I'll send himup here first thing to-morrow morning; but take care he doesn't showhimself in the yard, or there'll be no end of a row!"

"The mistress can't bear to see him, I suppose?" said Lasse. 

"You're just about right. She's had nothing to do with the making ofthat scarecrow. Though you wouldn't think there was much there to bejealous about! But I might have been a farmer's wife at this momentand had a nice husband too, if that high and mighty peacock up therehadn't seduced me. Would you believe that, you cracked old piece ofshoe-leather?" she asked with a laugh, slapping his knee with herhand. 

"I can believe it very well, " said Lasse. "For you were as prettya girl as might be when you left home. "

"Oh, you and your 'home', " she said, mimicking him. 

"Well, I can see that you don't want to leave any footmarks behindyou, and I can quite well pretend to be a stranger, even if I haveheld you upon my knee more than once when you were a little thing. But do you know that your mother's lying on her deathbed?"

"Oh no! Oh no!" she exclaimed, turning to him a face that wasbecoming more and more distorted. 

"I went to say good-bye to her before I left home rather more thana month ago, and she was very ill. 'Good-bye, Lasse, ' she said, 'andthank you for your neighborliness all these years. And if you meetJohanna over there, ' she said, 'give her my love. Things have goneterribly badly with her, from what I've heard; but give her my love, all the same. Johanna child, little child! She was nearest hermother's heart, and so she happened to tread upon it. Perhaps itwas our fault. You'll give her her mother's love, won't you, Lasse?'Those were her very words, and now she's most likely dead, so poorlyas she was then. "

Johanna Pihl had no command over her feelings. It was evident thatshe was not accustomed to weep, for her sobs seemed to tear herto pieces. No tears came, but her agony was like the throes ofchild-birth. "Little mother! Poor little mother!" she said every nowand again, as she sat rocking herself upon the edge of the manger. 

"There, there, there!" said Lasse, patting her on the head. "I toldthem they had been too hard with you. But what did you want to creepthrough that window for--a child of sixteen and in the middle ofthe night? You can hardly wonder that they forgot themselves alittle, all the more that he was earning no wages beyond his keepand clothes, and was a bad fellow at that, who was always losinghis place. "

"I was fond of him, " said Johanna, weeping. "He's the only one I'veever cared for. And I was so stupid that I thought he was fond ofme too, though he'd never seen me. "

"Ah, yes; you were only a child! I said so to your parents. Butthat you could think of doing anything so indecent!"

"I didn't mean to do anything wrong. I only thought that we twoought to be together as we loved one another. No, I didn't eventhink that then. I only crept in to him, without thinking aboutit at all. Would you believe that I was so innocent in those days?And nothing bad happened either. "

"And nothing happened even?" said Lasse. "But it's terribly sad tothink how things have turned out. It was the death of your father. "

The big woman began to cry helplessly, and Lasse was almost intears himself. 

"Perhaps I ought never to have told you, " he said in despair. "But I thought you must have heard about it. I suppose he thoughtthat he, as schoolmaster, bore the responsibility for so many, and that you'd thrown yourself at any one in that way, and a poorfarm-servant into the bargain, cut him to the quick. It's trueenough that he mixed with us poor folks as if we'd been his equals, but the honor was there all the same; and he took it hardly whenthe fine folk wouldn't look at him any more. And after all it wasnothing at all--nothing happened? But why didn't you tell them so?"

Johanna had stopped crying, and now sat with tear-stained, quiveringface, and eyes turned away. 

"I did tell them, but they wouldn't listen. I was found there ofcourse. I screamed for help when I found out he didn't even know me, but was only flattered at my coming, and wanted to take hold of me. And then the others came running in and found me there. They laughedand said that I'd screamed because I'd lost my innocence; and Icould see that my parents thought the same. Even they wouldn't hearof nothing having happened, so what could the other rabble think?And then they paid him to come over here, and sent me away torelations. "

"Yes, and then you added to their sorrow by running away. "

"I went after him. I thought he'd get to be fond of me, if onlyI was near him. He'd taken service here at Stone Farm, and I tooka place here as housemaid; but there was only one thing he wantedme for, and that I wouldn't have if he wasn't fond of me. So he wentabout boasting that I'd run away from home for his sake, and theother thing that was a lie; so they all thought they could do whatthey liked with me. Kongstrup was just married then, but he was nobetter than the others. I'd got the place quite by chance, becausethe other housemaid had had to go away somewhere to lie in; so Iwas awfully careful. He got her married afterwards to a quarrymanat the quarries. "

"So that's the sort of man he is!" exclaimed Lasse. "I had my doubtsabout him. But what became of the other fellow?"

"He went to work in the quarry when we'd been at the farm a coupleof years and he'd done me all the harm he could. While he was there, he drank and quarreled most of the time. I often went to see him, for I couldn't get him out of my head; but he was always drunk. Atlast he couldn't stay there any longer, and disappeared, and thenwe heard that he was in Nordland, playing Hell among the rocks atBlaaholt. He helped himself to whatever he wanted at the nearestplace he could find it, and knocked people down for nothing at all. And one day they said that he'd been declared an outlaw, so thatany one that liked could kill him. I had great confidence in themaster, who, after all, was the only person that wished me well;and he comforted me by saying that it would be all right: Knut wouldknow how to take care of himself. "

"Knut? Was it Knut Engstrom?" asked Lasse. "Well, then, I've heardabout him. He was breaking out as wild as the devil the last timeI was in this country, and assaulted people on the high-road inbroad daylight. He killed one man with a hammer, and when theycaught him, he'd made a long gash on his neck from the back rightup to his eye. The other man had done that, he said; he'd onlydefended himself. So they couldn't do anything to him. So that wasthe man, was it! But who was it he was living with, then? They saidhe lived in a shed on the heath that summer, and had a woman withhim. "

"I ran away from service, and pretended to the others that I wasgoing home. I'd heard what a wretched state he was in. They said hewas gashed all over his head. So I went up and took care of him. "

"Then you gave in at last, " said Lasse, with a roguish wink. 

"He beat me every day, " she answered hoarsely. "And when he couldn'tget his way, he drove me away at last. I'd set my mind on his beingfond of me first. " Her voice had grown coarse and hard again. 

"Then you deserved a good whipping for taking a fancy to sucha ruffian! And you may be glad your mother didn't get to knowanything about that, for she'd never have survived it. "

At the word "mother" Johanna started. "Every one must look afterthemselves, " she said in a hard voice. "I've had more to look tothan mother, and see how fat I've grown. "

Lasse shook his head. "I shouldn't care to fight with you now. But what happened to you afterwards?"

"I came back to Stone Farm again at Martinmas, but the mistresswouldn't take me on again, for she preferred my room to my company. But Kongstrup got his way by making me dairymaid. He was as kind tome as ever, for all that I'd stood out against him for nine years. But at last the magistrate got tired of having Knut going aboutloose; he made too much disturbance. So they had a hunt for himup on the heath. They didn't catch him, but he must have come backto the quarry to hide himself, for one day when they were blastingthere, his body came out among the bits of rock, all smashed up. They drove the pieces down here to the farm, and it made me so illto see him come to me like that, that I had to go to bed. ThereI lay shivering day and night, for it seemed as if he'd come to mein his sorest need. Kongstrup sat with me and comforted me when theothers were at work, and he took advantage of my misery to get hisway. 

"There was a younger brother of the farmer on the hill who likedme. He'd been in America in his early days, and had plenty of money. He didn't care a rap what people said, and every single year heproposed to me, always on New Year's Day. He came that year too, and now that Knut was dead, I couldn't have done better than havetaken him and been mistress of a farm; but I had to refuse himafter all, and I can tell you it was hard when I made the discovery. Kongstrup wanted to send me away when I told him about it; but thatI would not have. I meant to stay and have my child born here on thefarm to which it belonged. He didn't care a bit about me any longer, the mistress looked at me with her evil eyes every day, and therewas no one that was kind to me. I wasn't so hard then as I am now, and it was all I could do to keep from crying always. I became hardthen. When anything was the matter, I clenched my teeth so that noone should deride me. I was working in the field the very day ithappened, too. The boy was born in the middle of a beet-field, andI carried him back to the farm myself in my apron. He was deformedeven then: the mistress's evil eyes had done it. I said to myselfthat she should always have the changeling in her sight, and refusedto go away. The farmer couldn't quite bring himself to turn me outby force, and so he put me into the house down by the shore. "

"Then perhaps you work on the farm here in the busy seasons?"asked Lasse. 

She sniffed contemptuously. "Work! So you think I need do that?Kongstrup has to pay me for bringing up his son, and then thereare friends that come to me, now one and now another, and bringa little with them--when they haven't spent it all in drink. Youmay come down and see me this evening. I'll be good to you too. "

"No, thank you!" said Lasse, gravely. "I am a human being too, but I won't go to one who's sat on my knee as if she'd been myown child. "

"Have you any gin, then?" she asked, giving him a sharp nudge. 

Lasse thought there was some, and went to see. "No, not a drop, "he said, returning with the bottle. "But I've got something foryou here that your mother asked me to give you as a keepsake. Itwas lucky I happened to remember it. " And he handed her a packet, and looked on happily while she opened it, feeling pleased on heraccount. It was a hymn-book. "Isn't it a beauty?" he said. "Witha gold cross and clasp--and then, it's your mother's. "

"What's the good of that to me?" asked Johanna. "I don't singhymns. "

"Don't you?" said Lasse, hurt. "But your mother has never known butthat you've kept the faith you had as a child, so you must forgiveher this once. "

"Is that all you've got for me?" she asked, pushing the book offher lap. 

"Yes, it is, " said Lasse, his voice trembling; and he picked upthe book. 

"Who's going to have the rest, then?"

"Well, the house was leased, and there weren't many things left, forit's a long time since your father died, remember. Where you shouldhave been, strangers have filled the daughter's place; and I supposethose who've looked after her will get what there is. But perhapsyou'd still be in time, if you took the first steamer. "

"No, thank you! Go home and be stared at and play the penitent--no, thank you! I'd rather the strangers got what's left. And mother--well, if she's lived without my help, I suppose she can die withoutit too. Well, I must be getting home. I wonder what's become of thefuture master of Stone Farm?" She laughed loudly. 

Lasse would have taken his oath that she had been quite sober, andyet she walked unsteadily as she went behind the calves' stables tolook for her son. It was on his lips to ask whether she would nottake the hymn-book with her, but he refrained. She was not in themood for it now, and she might mock God; so he carefully wrapped upthe book and put it away in the green chest. 

 * * * * *

At the far end of the cow-stable a space was divided off withboards. It had no door, and the boards were an inch apart, so thatit resembled a crate. This was the herdsman's room. Most of thespace was occupied by a wide legless bedstead made of rough boardsknocked together, with nothing but the stone floor to rest on. Upona deep layer of rye straw the bed-clothes lay in a disordered heap, and the thick striped blankets were stiff with dried cow-dung, towhich feathers and bits of straw had adhered. 

Pelle lay curled up in the middle of the bed with the down quilt upto his chin, while Lasse sat on the edge, turning over the thingsin the green chest and talking to himself. He was going throughhis Sunday devotions, taking out slowly, one after another, allthe little things he had brought from the broken-up home. Theywere all purely useful things--balls of cotton, scraps of stuff, and such-like, that were to be used to keep his own and the boy'sclothes in order; but to him each thing was a relic to be handledwith care, and his heart bled every time one of them came to anend. With each article he laid down, he slowly repeated what Bengtahad said it was for when she lay dying and was trying to arrangeeverything for him and the boy: "Wool for the boy's gray socks. Pieces to lengthen the sleeves of his Sunday jacket. Mind you don'twear your stockings too long before you mend them. " They were thelast wishes of the dying woman, and they were followed in thesmallest detail. Lasse remembered them word for word, in spiteof his bad memory. 

Then there were little things that had belonged to Bengta herself, cheap finery that all had its happy memory of fairs and holidays, which he recalled in his muttered reverie. 

Pelle liked this subdued murmur that he did not need to listen toor answer, and that was so pleasant to doze off in. He lay lookingout sleepily at the bright sky, tired and with a vague feeling ofsomething unpleasant that was past. 

Suddenly he started. He had heard the door of the cow-stable open, and steps upon the long foddering-passage. It was the pupil. Herecognized the hated step at once. 

He thrilled with delight. Now that fellow would be made tounderstand that he mustn't do anything to boys with fathers whocould hold a man out at arm's length and scold! oh, much worsethan the bailiff. He sat up and looked eagerly at his father. 

"Lasse!" came a voice from the end of the tables. 

The old man growled sullenly, stirred uneasily, but did not rise. 

"Las-se!" came again, after a little, impatiently and in a toneof command. 

"Yes, " said Lasse slowly, rising and going out. 

"Can't you answer when you're called, you old Swedish rascal? Areyou deaf?"

"Oh, I can answer well enough, " said Lasse, in a trembling voice. "But Mr. Pupil oughtn't to--I'm a father, let me tell you--anda father's heart----"

"You may be a monthly nurse for all I care, but you've got toanswer when you're called, or else I'll get the bailiff to giveyou a talking-to. Do you understand?"

"Yes, oh yes!--Mr. Pupil must excuse me, but I didn't hear. "

"Well, will you please remember that Aspasia's not to go outto pasture to-morrow. "

"Is she going to calve?"

"Yes, of course! Did you think she was going to foal?"

Lasse laughed, as in duty bound, and followed the pupil back throughthe stable. Now it would come, thought Pelle, and sat listeningintently; but he only heard his father make another excuse, closethe half-door, and come back with slow, tottering steps. Then heburst into tears, and crept far in under the quilt. 

Lasse went about for some time, grumbling to himself, and at lastcame and gently drew the quilt down from the boy's head. But Pelleburied his face in the clothes, and when his father turned it uptoward him, he met a despairing, uncomprehending gaze that made hisown wander restlessly round the room. 

"Yes, " he said, with an attempt at being cross. "It's all very wellfor you to cry! But when you don't know where Aspasia stands, you'vegot to be civil, I'm thinking. "

"I know Aspasia quite well, " sobbed the boy. "She's the third fromthe door here. "

Lasse was going to give a cross answer, but broke down, touched anddisarmed by the boy's grief. He surrendered unconditionally, stoopeddown until his forehead touched the boy's, and said helplessly, "Yes, Lasse's a poor thing--old and poor! Any one can make a foolof him. He can't be angry any more, and there's no strength in hisfist, so what's the good of clenching it! He has to put up witheverything, and let himself be hustled about--and say thank you intothe bargain--that's how it is with old Lasse. But you must rememberthat it's for your sake he lets himself be put upon. If it wasn'tfor you, he'd shoulder his pack and go--old though he is. But youcan grow on where your father rusts. And now you must leave offcrying!" And he dried the boy's wet eyes with the quilt. 

Pelle did not understand his father's words, but they quieted himnevertheless, and he soon fell asleep; but for a long time he sobbedas he lay. 

Lasse sat still upon the edge of the bed and watched the boy as heslept, and when he had become quieter, crept away through the stableand out. It had been a poor Sunday, and now he would go and see ifany of the men were at home and had visitors, for then there wouldbe spirits going round. Lasse could not find it in his heart to takeany of his wages to buy a dram with; that money would have quiteenough to do to buy bare necessaries. 

On one of the beds lay a man asleep, fully dressed, and with hisboots on. He was dead drunk. All the others were out, so Lasse hadto give up all thoughts of a dram, and went across to the basementto see if there was any gaiety going among the maids. He was notat all averse to enjoyment of one sort or another, now that he wasfree and his own master as he had been in the days of his youth. 

Up by the dairy stood the three farm-laborers' wives who used to dothe milking for the girls on Sunday evening. They were thick-set, small, and bent with toil. They were all talking together and spokeof illnesses and other sad things in plaintive tones. Lasse at oncefelt a desire to join them, for the subject found an echo in hisbeing like the tones of a well-known song, and he could join inthe refrain with the experience of a lifetime. But he resisted thetemptation, and went past them down the basement steps. "Ah, yes, death will come to us all!" said one of the women, and Lasse saidthe words after her to himself as he went down. 

Down there Karna was sitting mending Gustav's moleskin trousers, while Gustav lay upon the bench asleep with his cap over his face. He had put his feet up on Karna's lap, without so much as takingoff his shoes; and she had accommodated her lap, so that theyshould not slide off. 

Lasse sat down beside her and tried to make himself agreeable. Hewanted some one to be nice to him. But Karna was unapproachable;those dirty feet had quite turned her head. And either Lasse hadforgotten how to do it, or he was wanting in assurance, for everytime he attempted a pleasant speech, she turned it off. 

"We might have such a comfortable time, we two elderly folk, " hesaid hopelessly. 

"Yes, and I could contribute what was wanting, " said Gustav, peepingout from under his cap. Insolent puppy, lying there and boasting ofhis seventeen years! Lasse had a good mind to go for him then andthere and chance yet one more trial of strength. But he contentedhimself with sitting and looking at him until his red, lashless eyesgrew watery. Then he got up. 

"Well, well, I see you want young people this evening!" he saidbitterly to Karna. "But you can't get rid of your years, all thesame! Perhaps you'll only get the spoon to lick after the others. "

He went across to the cow-stable and began to talk to the threefarm-laborers' wives, who were still speaking of illness and miseryand death, as if nothing else existed in the world. Lasse noddedand said: "Yes, yes, that's true. " He could heartily endorse it all, and could add much to what they said. It brought warmth to his oldbody, and made him feel quite comfortable--so easy in his joints. 

But when he lay on his back in bed, all the sad thoughts came backand he could not sleep. Generally he slept like a log as soon ashe lay down, but to-day was Sunday, and he was tormented with thethought that life had passed him by. He had promised himself so muchfrom the island, and it was nothing but worry and toil and trouble--nothing else at all. 

"Yes, Lasse's old!" he suddenly said aloud, and he kept on repeatingthe words with a little variation until he fell asleep: "He's old, poor man--and played out! Ah, so old!" Those words expressed it all. 

He was awakened again by singing and shouting up on the high-road. 

 "And now the boy you gave me With the black and curly hair, He is no longer little, No longer, no longer, But a fine, tall strapping youth. "

It was some of the men and girls of the farm on their way home fromsome entertainment. When they turned into the farm road they becamesilent. It was just beginning to grow light; it must have been abouttwo o'clock. 

IV

At four, Lasse and Pelle were dressed and were opening thecow-stable doors on the field side. The earth was rolling off itswhite covering of night mist, and the morning rose prophetically. Lasse stood still in the doorway, yawning, and making up his mindabout the weather for the day; but Pelle let the soft tones of thewind and the song of the lark--all that was stirring--beat uponhis little heart. With open mouth and doubtful eyes he gazed intothe incomprehensible as represented by each new day with all itsunimagined possibilities. "To-day you must take your coat with you, for we shall have rain about midday, " Lasse would then say; andPelle peered into the sky to find out where his father got hisknowledge from. For it generally came true. 

They then set about cleaning out the dung in the cow-stable, Pellescraping the floor under the cows and sweeping it up, Lasse fillingthe wheelbarrow and wheeling it out. At half-past five they atetheir morning meal of salt herring and porridge. 

After that Pelle set out with the young cattle, his dinner basketon his arm, and his whip wound several times round his neck. Hisfather had made him a short, thick stick with rings on it, thathe could rattle admonishingly and throw at the animals; but Pellepreferred the whip, because he was not yet strong enough to use it. 

He was little, and at first he had some difficulty in making animpression upon the great forces over which he was placed. He couldnot get his voice to sound sufficiently terrifying, and on the wayout from the farm he had hard work, especially up near the farm, where the corn stood high on both sides of the field-road. Theanimals were hungry in the morning, and the big bullocks did nottrouble to move when once they had their noses buried in the cornand he stood belaboring them with the short handle of the cattle-whip. The twelve-foot lash, which, in a practised hand, left littletriangular marks in the animal's hide, he could not manage at all;and if he kicked the bullock on the head with his wooden shoe, itonly closed its eyes good-naturedly, and browsed on sedately withits back to him. Then he would break into a despairing roar, orinto little fits of rage in which he attacked the animal blindlyand tried to get at its eyes; but it was all equally useless. Hecould always make the calves move by twisting their tails, butthe bullocks' tails were too strong. 

He did not cry, however, for long at a time over the failure of hisresources. One evening he got his father to put a spike into the toeof one of his wooden shoes, and after that his kick was respected. Partly by himself, and partly through Rud, he also learned where tofind the places on the animals where it hurt most. The cow-calvesand the two bull-calves all had their particular tender spot, anda well-directed blow upon a horn could make even the large bullocksbellow with pain. 

The driving out was hard work, but the herding itself was easy. When once the cattle were quietly grazing, he felt like a general, and made his voice sound out incessantly over the meadow, while hislittle body swelled with pride and a sense of power. 

Being away from his father was a trouble to him. He did not go hometo dinner, and often in the middle of his play, despair would comeover him and he would imagine that something had happened to hisfather, that the great bull had tossed him or something else; andhe would leave everything, and start running homeward crying, butwould remember in time the bailiff's whip, and trudge back again. He found a remedy for his longing by stationing himself so that hecould keep a lookout on the fields up there, and see his father whenhe went out to move the dairy-cows. 

He taught himself to whittle boats and little rakes and hoes anddecorate sticks with patterns cut upon the bark. He was clever withhis knife and made diligent use of it. He would also stand for hourson the top of a monolith--he thought it was a gate-post--and tryto crack his cattle-whip like a pistol-shot. He had to climb to aheight to get the lash off the ground at all. 

When the animals lay down in the middle of the morning, he was oftentired too, and then he would seat himself upon the head of one ofthe big bullocks, and hold on to the points of its horns; and whilethe animal lay chewing with a gentle vibration like a machine, hesat upon its head and shouted at the top of his voice songs aboutblighted affections and horrible massacres. 

Toward midday Rud came running up, as hungry as a hunter. His mothersent him out of the house when the hour for a meal drew near. Pelleshared the contents of his basket with him, but required him tobring the animals together a certain number of times for everyportion of food. The two boys could not exist apart for a whole daytogether. They tumbled about in the field like two puppies, foughtand made it up again twenty times a day, swore the most fearfulthreats of vengeance that should come in the shape of this or thatgrown-up person, and the next moment had their arms round oneanother's necks. 

About half-a-mile of sand-dunes separated the Stone Farm fieldsfrom the sea. Within this belt of sand the land was stony andafforded poor grazing; but on both sides of the brook a strip ofgreen meadow-land ran down among the dunes, which were covered withdwarf firs and grass-wrack to bind the sand. The best grazing was onthis meadow-land, but it was hard work minding both sides of it, asthe brook ran between; and it had been impressed upon the boy withsevere threats, that no animal must set its foot upon the dune-land, as the smallest opening might cause a sand-drift. Pelle took thematter quite literally, and all that summer imagined something likean explosion that would make everything fly into the air the instantan animal trod upon it; and this possibility hung like a fate at theback of everything when he herded down there. When Rud came and theywanted to play, he drove the cattle up on to the poor pasture wherethere was plenty of room for them. 

When the sun shone the boys ran about naked. They dared not venturedown to the sea for fear of the bailiff, who, they were sure, alwaysstood up in the attic of the big house, and watched Pelle throughhis telescope; but they bathed in the brook--in and out of the watercontinually for hours together. 

After heavy rain it became swollen, and was then quite milky fromthe china clay that it washed away from the banks farther up. Theboys thought it was milk from an enormous farm far up in the island. At high water the sea ran up and filled the brook with decayingseaweed that colored the water crimson; and this was the blood ofall the people drowned out in the sea. 

Between their bathes they lay under the dunes and let the sun drythem. They made a minute examination of their bodies, and discussedthe use and intention of the various parts. Upon this head Rud'sknowledge was superior, and he took the part of instructor. Theyoften quarrelled as to which of them was the best equipped inone way or another--in other words, had the largest. Pelle, forinstance, envied Rud his disproportionately large head. 

Pelle was a well-built little fellow, and had put on flesh sincehe had come to Stone Farm. His glossy skin was stretched smoothlyover his body, and was of a warm, sunburnt color. Rud had a thinneck in proportion to his head, and his forehead was angular andcovered with scars, the results of innumerable falls. He had notfull command of all his limbs, and was always knocking and bruisinghimself; there were blue, livid patches all over him that were slowto disappear, for he had flesh that did not heal easily. But he wasnot so open in his envy as Pelle. He asserted himself by boasting ofhis defects until he made them out to be sheer achievements; so thatPelle ended by envying him everything from the bottom of his heart. 

Rud had not Pelle's quick perception of things, but he had moreinstinct, and on certain points possessed quite a talent inanticipating what Pelle only learned by experience. He was alreadyavaricious to a certain extent, and suspicious without connectingany definite thoughts with it. He ate the lion's share of the food, and had a variety of ways of getting out of doing the work. 

Behind their play there lay, clothed in the most childish forms, a struggle for the supremacy, and for the present Pelle was the onewho came off second best. In an emergency, Rud always knew how toappeal to his good qualities and turn them to his own advantage. 

And through all this they were the best friends in the world, andwere quite inseparable. Pelle was always looking toward "the Sow's"cottage when he was alone, and Rud ran off from home as soon as hesaw his opportunity. 

 * * * * *

It had rained hard in the course of the morning, in spite of Lasse, and Pelle was wet through. Now the blue-black cloud was drawingaway over the sea, and the boats lay in the middle of it with alltheir red sails set, and yet motionless. The sunlight flashed andglittered on wet surfaces, making everything look bright; and Pellehung his clothes on a dwarf fir to dry. 

He was cold, and crept close up to Peter, the biggest of thebullocks, as he lay chewing the cud. The animal was steaming, butPelle could not bring warmth into his extremities, where the coldhad taken hold. His teeth chattered, too, and he was shivering. 

And even now there was one of the cows that would not let him haveany peace. Every time he had snuggled right in under the bullockand was beginning to get a little warmer, the cow strayed away overthe northern boundary. There was nothing but sand there, but whenit was a calf there had been a patch of mixed crops, and it stillremembered that. 

It was one of two cows that had been turned out of the dairy-herd onaccount of their dryness. They were ill-tempered creatures, alwaysdiscontented and doing some mischief or other; and Pelle detestedthem heartily. They were two regular termagants, upon which eventhrashing made no impression. The one was a savage beast, that wouldsuddenly begin stamping and bellowing like a mad bull in the middleof grazing, and, if Pelle went toward it, wanted to toss him; andwhen it saw its opportunity, it would eat up the cloth in whichPelle's dinner was wrapped. The other was old and had crumpled hornsthat pointed in toward its eyes, one of which had a white pupil. 

It was the noisy one that was now at its tricks. Every other minutePelle had to get up and shout: "Hi, Blakka, you villainous beast!Just you come back!" He was hoarse with anger, and at last hispatience gave way, and he caught up a big stick and began to chasethe cow. As soon as it saw his intention, it set off at a run uptoward the farm, and Pelle had to make a wide circle to turn it downto the herd again. Then it ran at full gallop in and out among theother animals, the herd became confused and ran hither and thither, and Pelle had to relinquish his pursuit for a time while he gatheredthem together. But then he began again at once. He was boiling withrage, and leaped about like an indiarubber ball, his naked bodyflashing in loops and curves upon the green grass. He was only a fewyards from the cow, but the distance remained the same; he could notcatch her up to-day. 

He stopped up by the rye-field, and the cow stood still almost atthe same moment. It snapped at a few ears, and moved its head slowlyto choose its direction. In a couple of leaps Pelle was up to itand had hold of its tail. He hit it over the nose with his cudgel, it turned quickly away from the rye, and set off at a flying pacedown toward the others, while blows rained down upon its bonyprominences. Every stroke echoed back from the dunes like blows uponthe trunk of a tree, and made Pelle swell with pride. The cow triedto shake Pelle off as it ran, but he was not to be got rid of; itcrossed the brook in long bounds, backward and forward, with Pellealmost floating through the air; but the blows continued to raindown upon it. Then it grew tired and began to slacken its pace;and at last it came to a standstill, coughed, and resigned itselfto the thrashing. 

Pelle threw himself flat upon his face, and panted. Ha, ha!_That_ had made him warm! Now that beast should--He rolledsuddenly over on to his side with a start. The bailiff! But it wasa strange man with a beard who stood over him, looking at him withserious eyes. The stranger went on gazing at him for a long timewithout saying anything, and Pelle grew more and more uneasy underhis scrutiny; he had the sun right in his eyes too, if he tried toreturn the man's gaze, and the cow still stood there coughing. 

"What do you think the bailiff will say?" asked the man at last, quietly. 

"I don't think he's seen it, " whispered Pelle, looking timidlyround. 

"But God has seen it, for He sees everything. And He has led me hereto stop the evil in you while there's still time. Wouldn't you liketo be God's child?" The man sat down beside him and took his hand. 

Pelle sat tugging at the grass and wishing he had had his clotheson. 

"And you must never forget that God sees everything you do; even inthe darkest night He sees. We are always walking in God's sight. Butcome now, it's unseemly to run about naked!" And the man took himby the hand and led him to his clothes, and then, going across tothe north side, he gathered the herd together while Pelle dressedhimself. The wicked cow was over there again already, and had drawna few of the others after it. Pelle watched the man in surprise;he drove the animals back quite quietly, neither using stones norshouting. Before he got back, Blakka had once more crossed theboundary; but he turned and brought her back again just as gentlyas before. 

"That's not an easy cow to manage, " he said kindly, when hereturned; "but you've got young legs. Shan't we agree to burnthat?" he asked, picking up the thick cudgel, "and do what we haveto do with just our hands? God will always help you when you'rein difficulties. And if you want to be a true child of God, youmust tell the bailiff this evening what you did--and take yourpunishment. " He placed his hand upon Pelle's head, and looked athim with that unendurable gaze; and then he left him, taking thestick with him. 

For a long time Pelle followed him with his eyes. So that was whata man looked like, who was sent by God to warn you! Now he knew, and it would be some time before he chased a cow like that again. But go to the bailiff, and tell of himself, and get the whip-lashon his bare legs? Not if he knew it! Rather than that, God wouldhave to be angry--if it was really true that He could seeeverything? It couldn't be worse than the bailiff, anyhow. 

All that morning he was very quiet. He felt the man's eyes uponhim in everything he did, and it robbed him of his confidence. Hesilently tested things, and saw everything in a new light; it wasbest not to make a noise, if you were always walking in the sightof God. He did not go on cracking his cattle-whip, but meditateda little on whether he should burn that too. 

But a little before midday Rud appeared, and the whole incidentwas forgotten. Rud was smoking a bit of cane that he had cut offthe piece his mother used for cleaning the stove-pipes, and Pellebartered some of his dinner for a few pulls at it. First they seatedthemselves astride the bullock Cupid, which was lying chewing thecud. It went on calmly chewing with closed eyes, until Rud put theglowing cane to the root of its tail, when it rose hastily, bothboys rolling over its head. They laughed and boasted to one anotherof the somersault they had turned, as they went up on to the highground to look for blackberries. Thence they went to some birds'nests in the small firs, and last of all they set about their bestgame--digging up mice-nests. 

Pelle knew every mouse-hole in the meadow, and they lay down andexamined them carefully. "Here's one that has mice in it, " said Rud. "Look, here's their dunghill!"

"Yes, that smells of mouse, " said Pelle, putting his nose to thehole. "And the blades of grass turn outward, so the old ones mustbe out. "

With Pelle's knife they cut away the turf, and set to work eagerlyto dig with two pieces of pot. The soil flew about their heads asthey talked and laughed. 

"My word, how fast we're getting on!"

"Yes; Strom couldn't work as fast!" Strom was a famous worker whogot twenty-five ores a day more than other autumn farm-hands, andhis example was used as an incentive to coax work out of thelaborers. 

"We shall soon get right into the inside of the earth. "

"Well, but it's burning hot in there. "

"Oh, nonsense: is it?" Pelle paused doubtfully in his digging. 

"Yes, the schoolmaster says so. "

The boys hesitated and put their hands down into the hole. Yes, it was warm at the bottom--so warm that Pelle found it necessaryto pull out his hand and say: "Oh, my word!" They considered alittle, and then went on scraping out the hole as carefully as iftheir lives depended on it. In a little while straw appeared inthe passage, and in a moment the internal heat of the earth wasforgotten. In less than a minute they had uncovered the nest, andlaid the little pink, new-born mice out on the grass. They lookedlike half-hatched birds. 

"They _are_ ugly, " said Pelle, who did not quite like takinghold of them, but was ashamed not to do so. "They're much nastierto touch than toads. I believe they're poisonous. "

Rud lay pinching them between his fingers. 

"Poisonous! Don't be silly! Why, they haven't any teeth! There areno bones in them at all; I'm sure you could eat them quite well. "

"Pah! Beastly!" Pelle spat on the ground. 

"I shouldn't be at all afraid of biting one; would you?" Rud lifteda little mouse up toward his mouth. 

"Afraid? Of course I'm not afraid--but--" Pelle hesitated. 

"No, you're afraid, because you're a blue-bag!"

Now this nickname really only applied to boys who were afraid ofwater, but Pelle quickly seized one of the little mice, and held itup to his mouth, at exactly the same distance from his lips that Rudwas from his. "You can see for yourself!" he cried, in an offendedtone. 

Rud went on talking, with many gestures. 

"You're afraid, " he said, "and it's because you're Swedish. Butwhen you're afraid, you should just shut your eyes--so--and openyour mouth. Then you pretend to put the mouse right into your mouth, and then--" Rud had his mouth wide open, and held his hand closeto his mouth; Pelle was under his influence, and imitated hismovements--"and then--" Pelle received a blow that sent the littlemouse halfway down his throat. He retched and spat; and then hishands fumbled in the grass and got hold of a stone. But by the timehe was on his feet and was going to throw it, Rud was far away upthe fields. "I must go home now!" he shouted innocently. "There'ssomething I've got to help mother with. "

Pelle did not love solitude, and the prospect of a blockadedetermined him at once for negotiations. He dropped the stoneto show his serious wish for a reconciliation, and had to swearsolemnly that he would not bear malice. Then at last Rud came back, tittering. 

"I was going to show you something funny with the mouse, " he saidby way of diversion; "but you held on to it like an idiot. " He didnot venture to come quite close up to Pelle, but stood watching hismovements. 

Pelle was acquainted with the little white lie when the danger ofa thrashing was imminent, but the lie as an attack was still unknownto him. If Rud, now that the whole thing was over, said that heonly wanted to have shown him something funny, it must be true. Butthen why was he mistrustful? Pelle tried, as he had so often donebefore, to bend his little brain round the possible tricks of hisplaymate, but failed. 

"You may just as well come up close, " he said stoutly. "For if Iwanted to, I could easily catch you up. "

Rud came. "Now we'll catch big mice. " he said. "That's better fun. "

They emptied Pelle's milk-bottle, and hunted up a mouse's nest thatappeared to have only two exits, one up in the meadow, the otherhalfway down the bank of the stream. Here they pushed in the mouthof the bottle, and widened the hole in the meadow into a funnel;and they took it in turns to keep an eye on the bottle, and to carrywater up to the other hole in their caps. It was not long beforea mouse popped out into the bottle, which they then corked. 

What should they do with it? Pelle proposed that they should tame itand train it to draw their little agricultural implements; but Rud, as usual, got his way--it was to go out sailing. 

Where the stream turned, and had hollowed out its bed into a holeas big as a cauldron, they made an inclined plane and let the bottleslide down into the water head foremost, like a ship being launched. They could follow it as it curved under the water until it came upslantingly, and stood bobbing up and down on the water like a buoy, with its neck up. The mouse made the funniest leaps up toward thecork to get out; and the boys jumped up and down on the grass withdelight. 

"It knows the way it got in quite well!" They imitated itsunsuccessful leaps, lay down again and rolled about in exuberantmirth. At last, however, the joke became stale. 

"Let's take out the cork!" suggested Rud. 

"Yes--oh, yes!" Pelle waded quickly in, and was going to set themouse at liberty. 

"Wait a minute, you donkey!" Rud snatched the bottle from him, andholding his hand over the mouth, put it back, into the water. "Nowwe'll see some fun!" he cried, hastening up the bank. 

It was a little while before the mouse discovered that the way wasopen, but then it leaped. The leap was unsuccessful, and made thebottle rock, so that the second leap was slanting and reboundedsideways. But then followed with lightning rapidity a number ofleaps--a perfect bombardment; and suddenly the mouse flew rightout of the bottle, head foremost into the water. 

"That was a leap and a half!" cried Pelle, jumping straight upand down in the grass, with his arms at his sides. "It could justsqueeze its body through, just exactly!" And he jumped again, squeezing himself together. 

The mouse swam to land, but Rud was there, and pushed it out againwith his foot. "It swam well, " he said, laughing. It made for theopposite bank. "Look out for the fellow!" Rud roared, and Pellesprang forward and turned it away from the shore with a good kick. It swam helplessly backward and forward in the middle of the pool, seeing one of the two dancing figures every time it approached abank, and turning and turning endlessly. It sank deeper and deeper, its fur becoming wet and dragging it down, until at last it swamright under water. Suddenly it stretched out its body convulsively, and sank to the bottom, with all four legs outspread like a wideembrace. 

Pelle had all at once comprehended the perplexity and helplessness--perhaps was familiar with it. At the animal's final struggle, heburst into tears with a little scream, and ran, crying loudly, upthe meadow toward the fir-plantation. In a little while he came backagain. "I really thought Cupid had run away, " he said repeatedly, and carefully avoided looking Rud in the face. Quietly he waded intothe water, and fished up the dead mouse with his foot. 

They laid it upon a stone in the sun, so that it might come to lifeagain. When that failed, Pelle remembered a story about some peoplewho were drowned in a lake at home, and who came to themselves againwhen cannons were fired over them. They clapped their hollowed handsover the mouse, and when that too brought about no result, theydecided to bury it. 

Rud happened to remember that his grandmother in Sweden was beingburied just now, and this made them go about the matter with acertain amount of solemnity. They made a coffin out of a matchbox, and ornamented it with moss; and then they lay on their faces andlowered the coffin into the grave with twine, taking every possiblecare that it should not land upon its head. A rope might give way;such things did sometimes happen, and the illusion did not permitof their correcting the position of the coffin afterward with theirhands. When this was done, Pelle looked down into his cap, while Rudprayed over the deceased and cast earth upon the coffin; and thenthey made up the grave. 

"I only hope it's not in a trance and going to wake up again!"exclaimed Pelle suddenly. They had both heard many unpleasantstories of such cases, and went over all the possibilities--howthey woke up and couldn't get any air, and knocked upon the lid, and began to eat their own hands--until Pelle could distinctly heara knocking on the lid below. They had the coffin up in a trice, andexamined the mouse. It had not eaten its forepaws, at any rate, butit had most decidedly turned over on its side. They buried it again, putting a dead beetle beside it in the coffin for safety's sake, and sticking a straw down into the grave to supply it with air. Then they ornamented the mound, and set up a memorial stone. 

"It's dead now!" said Pelle, gravely and with conviction. 

"Yes, I should just think so--dead as a herring. " Rud had put hisear to the straw and listened. 

"And now it must be up with God in all His glory--right high, high up. "

Rud sniffed contemptuously. "Oh, you silly! Do you think it cancrawl up there?"

"Well, can't mice crawl, I should like to know?" Pelle was cross. 

"Yes; but not through the air. Only birds can do that. "

Pelle felt himself beaten off the field and wanted to be revenged. 

"Then your grandmother isn't in heaven, either!" he declaredemphatically. There was still a little rancor in his heart fromthe young mouse episode. 

But this was more than Rud could stand. It had touched his familypride, and he gave Pelle a dig in the side with his elbow. The nextmoment they were rolling in the grass, holding one another by thehair, and making awkward attempts to hit one another on the nosewith their clenched fists. They turned over and over like one lump, now one uppermost, now the other; they hissed hoarsely, groaned andmade tremendous exertions. "I'll make you sneeze red, " said Pelleangrily, as he rose above his adversary; but the next moment he wasdown again, with Rud hanging over him and uttering the most fearfulthreats about black eyes and seeing stars. Their voices were thickwith passion. 

And suddenly they were sitting opposite one another on the grasswondering whether they should set up a howl. Rud put out his tongue, Pelle went a step further and began to laugh, and they were oncemore the best of friends. They set up the memorial stone, which hadbeen overturned in the heat of battle, and then sat down hand inhand, to rest after the storm, a little quieter than usual. 

It was not because there was more evil in Pelle, but because thequestion had acquired for him an importance of its own, and he mustunderstand it, that a meditative expression came into his eyes, andhe said thoughtfully:

"Well, but you've told me yourself that she was paralyzed inher legs!"

"Well, what if she was?"

"Why, then she couldn't crawl up into heaven. "

"Oh, you booby! It's her spirit, of course!"

"Then the mouse's spirit can very well be up there too. "

"No, it can't, for mice haven't got any spirit. "

"Haven't they? Then how is it they can breathe?" [Footnote: In Danish, spirit = aand, and to breathe = aande. ]

That was one for Rud! And the tiresome part of it was that heattended Sunday-school. His fists would have come in handy againnow, but his instinct told him that sooner or later Pelle would getthe better of him in fighting. And anyhow his grandmother was saved. 

"Yes, " he said, yielding; "and it certainly could breathe. Well, then, it was its spirit flying up that overturned the stone--that'swhat it was!"

A distant sound reached them, and far off near the cottage theycould see the figure of a fat woman, beckoning threateningly. 

"The Sow's calling you, " said Pelle. The two boys never called heranything but "the Sow" between themselves. 

So Rud had to go. He was allowed to take the greater part of thecontents of the dinner-basket with him, and ate as he ran. They hadbeen too busy to eat. 

Pelle sat down among the dunes and ate his dinner. As usual when Rudhad been with him, he could not imagine what had become of the day. The birds had ceased singing, and not one of the cattle was stilllying down, so it must be at least five o'clock. 

Up at the farm they were busy driving in. It went at full gallop--out and in, out and in. The men stood up in the carts and thrashedaway at the horses with the end of the reins, and the swaying loadswere hurried along the field-roads, looking like little bristling, crawling things, that have been startled and are darting to theirholes. 

A one-horsed vehicle drove out from the farm, and took the high-roadto the town at a quick trot. It was the farmer; he was driving sofast that he was evidently off to the town on the spree. So therewas something gone wrong at home, and there would be crying at thefarm that night. 

Yes, there was Father Lasse driving out with the water-cart, so itwas half-past five. He could tell that too by the birds beginningtheir pleasant evening twittering, that was soft and sparkling likethe rays of the sun. 

Far inland above the stone-quarry, where the cranes stood outagainst the sky, a cloud of smoke rose every now and then into theair, and burst in a fountain of pieces of rock. Long after came theexplosion, bit by bit in a series of rattling reverberations. Itsounded as if some one were running along and slapping his thighwith fingerless gloves. 

The last few hours were always long--the sun was so slow about it. And there was nothing to fill up the time either. Pelle himself wastired, and the tranquillity of evening had the effect of subduinghis voice. But now they were driving out for milking up there, andthe cattle were beginning to graze along the edge of the meadow thatturned toward the farm; so the time was drawing near. 

At last the herd-boys began to jodel over at the neighboring farms, first one, and then several joining in:

 "Oh, drive home, o-ho, o-o-ho! O-ho, o-ho! O-ho, o-ho! Oh, drive home, o-o-ho! O-ho!"

From all sides the soft tones vibrated over the sloping land, running out, like the sound of happy weeping, into the first glow ofevening; and Pelle's animals began to move farther after each pauseto graze. But he did not dare to drive them home yet, for it onlymeant a thrashing from the bailiff or the pupil if he arrived tooearly. 

He stood at the upper end of the meadow, and called his homeward-drifting flock together; and when the last tones of the call haddied away, he began it himself, and stepped on one side. The animalsran with a peculiar little trot and heads extended. The shadow ofthe grass lay in long thin stripes across the ground, and theshadows of the animals were endless. Now and then a calf lowedslowly and broke into a gallop. They were yearning for home, andPelle was yearning too. 

From behind a hollow the sun darted long rays out into space, as ifit had called all its powers home for the night, and now poured themforth in one great longing, from west to east. Everything pointed inlong thin lines, and the eager longing of the cattle seemed visiblein the air. 

To the mind of the child there was nothing left out of doors now;everything was being taken in, and he longed for his father witha longing that was almost a pain. And when at last he turned thecorner with the herd, and saw old Lasse standing there, smilinghappily with his red-rimmed eyes, and opening the gate to the fold, the boy gave way and threw himself weeping into his father's arms. 

"What's the matter, laddie? What's the matter?" asked the oldman, with concern in his voice, stroking the child's face with atrembling hand. "Has any one been unkind to you? No? Well, that'sa good thing! They'd better take care, for happy children are inGod's own keeping. And Lasse would be an awkward customer if itcame to that. So you were longing for me, were you? Then it's goodto be in your little heart, and it only makes Lasse happy. But goin now and get your supper, and don't cry any more. " And he wipedthe boy's nose with his hard, crooked fingers, and pushed himgently away. 

V

Pelle was not long in finding out all about the man who had beensent by God, and had the grave, reproachful eyes. He proved to benothing but a little shoemaker down in the village, who spoke atthe meeting-house on Sundays; and it was also said that his wifedrank. Rud went to his Sunday-school, and he was poor; so he wasnothing out of the ordinary. 

Moreover, Gustav had got a cap which could turn out three differentcrowns--one of blue duffle, one of water-proof American cloth, andone of white canvas for use in sunny weather. It was an absorbinglyinteresting study that threw everything else into the background, and exercised Pelle's mind for many days; and he used thismiraculous cap as a standard by which to measure everything greatand desirable. But one day he gave Gustav a beautifully carved stickfor permission to perform the trick of turning the crown inside outhimself; and that set his mind at rest at last, and the cap had totake its place in his everyday world like everything else. 

But what did it look like in Farmer Kongstrup's big rooms? Moneylay upon the floor there, of course, the gold in one place andthe silver in another; and in the middle of each heap stood ahalf-bushel measure. What did the word _"practical"_ mean, which the bailiff used when he talked to the farmer? And why didthe men call one another _"Swede"_ as a term of abuse? Why, they were all Swedes! What was there away beyond the cliffs wherethe stone-quarry lay? The farm-lands extended as far as that on theone side. He had not been there yet, but was going with his fatheras soon as an opportunity presented itself. They had learnt quiteby chance that Lasse had a brother who owned a house over there;so of course they knew the place comparatively well. 

Down there lay the sea; he had sailed upon it himself! Ships bothof iron and wood sailed upon it, though how iron could float whenit was so heavy he did not know! The sea must be strong, for in thepond, iron went to the bottom at once. In the middle of the pondthere was no bottom, so there you'd go on sinking forever! The oldthatcher, when he was young, had had more than a hundred fathomsof rope down there with a drag, to fish up a bucket, but he neverreached the bottom. And when he wanted to pull up the rope again, there was some one deep down who caught hold of the drag and triedto pull him down, so he had to let the whole thing go. 

God . .. Well, He had a long white beard like the farmer at KaaseFarm; but who kept house for Him now He was old? Saint Peter wasHis bailiff, of course!. .. How could the old, dry cows have justas young calves as the young ones? And so on, and so on. 

There was one subject about which, as a matter of course, therecould be no question, nor any thought at all in that sense, becauseit was the very foundation of all existence--Father Lasse. He wasthere, simply, he stood like a safe wall behind everything that onedid. He was the real Providence, the last great refuge in good andill; he could do whatever he liked--Father Lasse was almighty. 

Then there was one natural centre in the world--Pelle himself. Everything grouped itself about him, everything existed for him--forhim to play with, to shudder at, or to put on one side for a greatfuture. Even distant trees, houses and rocks in the landscape, thathe had never been up to, assumed an attitude toward him, eitherfriendly or hostile; and the relation had to be carefully decidedin the case of each new thing that appeared upon his horizon. 

His world was small; he had only just begun to create it. Fora good arm's-length on all sides of him, there was more or less_terra firma_; but beyond that floated raw matter, chaos. ButPelle already found his world immense, and was quite willing tomake it infinite. He attacked everything with insatiable appetite;his ready perceptions laid hold of all that came within theirreach; they were like the mouth of a machine, into which matter wasincessantly rushing in small, whirling particles. And in the draughtthey raised, came others and again others; the entire universe wason its way toward him. 

Pelle shaped and set aside twenty new things in the course of asecond. The earth grew out under him into a world that was rich inexcitement and grotesque forms, discomfort and the most everydaythings. He went about in it uncertainly, for there was alwayssomething that became displaced and had to be revalued or made overagain; the most matter-of-fact things would change and all at oncebecome terrifying marvels, or _vice versa_. He went about ina state of continual wonderment, and assumed an expectant attitudeeven with regard to the most familiar things; for who could tellwhat surprises they might give one?

As an instance; he had all his life had opportunities of verifyingthe fact that trouser-buttons were made of bone and had five holes, one large one in the middle and four smaller ones round it. And thenone day, one of the men comes home from the town with a pair of newtrousers, the buttons of which are made of bright metal and are nolarger than a sixpenny-piece! They have only four holes, and thethread is to lie across them, not from the middle outward, as inthe old ones. 

Or take the great eclipse of the sun, that he had wondered so muchabout all the summer, and that all the old people said would bringabout the destruction of the world. He had looked forward to it, especially the destruction part of it; it would be something ofan adventure, and somewhere within him there was a little bit ofconfident assurance that it would all come right as far as he wasconcerned. The eclipse did come too, as it was meant to; it grewdark too, as if it were the Last Day, and the birds became so quiet, and the cattle bellowed and wanted to run home. But then it grewlight again and it all came to nothing. 

Then there were fearful terrors that all at once revealedthemselves as tiny, tiny things--thank goodness! But there werealso anticipated pleasures that made your heart beat, and whenyou got up to them they were dullness itself. 

Far out in the misty mass, invisible worlds floated by that hadnothing to do with his own. A sound coming out of the unknowncreated them in a twinkling. They came into existence in the sameway that the land had done that morning he had stood upon the deckof the steamer, and heard voices and noise through the fog, thickand big, with forms that looked like huge gloves without fingers. 

And inside one there was blood and a heart and a soul. The heartPelle had found out about himself; it was a little bird shut up inthere. But the soul bored its way like a serpent to whatever partof the body desire occupied. Old thatcher Holm had once drawn thesoul like a thin thread out of the thumb of a man who couldn't helpstealing. Pelle's own soul was good; it lay in the pupils of hiseyes, and reflected Father Lasse's image whenever he looked intothem. 

The blood was the worst, and so Father Lasse always let himself bebled when there was anything the matter with him; the bad humors hadto be let out. Gustav thought a great deal about blood, and couldtell the strangest things about it; and he cut his fingers only tosee whether it was ripe. One evening he came over to the cow-stableand exhibited a bleeding finger. The blood was quite black. "Now I'ma man!" he said, and swore a great oath; but the maids only made funof him, and said that he had not carried his four bushels of peas upinto the loft yet. 

Then there was hell and heaven, and the stone-quarry where theystruck one another with heavy hammers when they were drunk. The menin the stone-quarry were the strongest men in the world. One of themhad eaten ten poached eggs at one time without being ill; and thereis nothing so strengthening as eggs. 

Down in the meadow, will-o'-the-wisps hopped about looking forsomething in the deep summer nights. There was always one of themnear the stream, and it stood and danced on the top of a little heapof stones that lay in the middle of the meadow. A couple of yearsago a girl had one night given birth to a child out there among thedunes and as she did not know what to do about a father for it, shedrowned it in one of the pools that the brook makes where it turns. Good people raised the little cairn, so that the place should notbe forgotten; and over it the child's soul used to burn at dead ofnight at the time of year at which it was born. Pelle believed thatthe child itself was buried beneath the stones, and now and thenornamented the mound with a branch of fir; but he never played atthat part of the stream. The girl was sent across the sea, sentencedto penal servitude for many years, and people wondered at thefather. She had not named any one, but every one knew who it was allthe same. He was a young, well-to-do fisherman down in the village, and the girl was one of the poorest, so there could never have beenany question of their marrying. The girl must have preferred thisto begging help of him for the child, and living in the village withan illegitimate child, an object of universal derision. And he hadcertainly put a bold face on the matter, where many another wouldhave been ashamed and gone away on a long voyage. 

This summer, two years after the girl went to prison, the fishermanwas going home one night along the shore toward the village withsome nets on his back. He was of a callous nature, and did nothesitate to take the shortest way across the meadow; but when hegot in among the dunes, he saw a will-o'-the-wisp following in hissteps, grew frightened, and began to run. It began to gain upon him, and when he leaped across the brook to put water between himself andthe spirit, it seized hold of the nets. At this he shouted the nameof God, and fled like one bereft of his senses. The next morning atsunrise he and his father went to fetch the nets. They had caughton the cairn, and lay right across the stream. 

Then the young man joined the Revivalists, and his father abandonedhis riotous life and followed him. Early and late the youngfisherman was to be found at their meetings, and at other timeshe went about like a malefactor with his head hanging down, onlywaiting for the girl to come out of prison, so that he could marryher. 

Pelle was up in it all. The girls talked shudderingly about it asthey sat upon the men's knees in the long summer evenings, and alovesick fellow from inland had made up a ballad about it, whichGustav sang to his concertina. Then all the girls on the farm wept, and even Lively Sara's eyes filled with tears, and she began to talkto Mons about engagement rings. 

One day when Pelle was lying on his face in the grass, singing andclapping his naked feet together in the clear air, he saw a youngman standing by the cairn and putting on it stones which he took outof his pocket; after which he knelt down. Pelle went up to him. 

"What are you doing?" he asked boldly, feeling that he was in hisown domain. "Are you saying your prayers?"

The man did not answer, but remained in a kneeling posture. At lasthe rose, and spat out tobacco-juice. 

"I'm praying to Him Who is to judge us all, " he said, lookingsteadily at Pelle. 

Pelle recognized that look. It was the same in expression as thatof the man the other day--the one that had been sent by God. Onlythere was no reproach in it. 

"Haven't you any bed to sleep in then?" asked Pelle. "I always saymy prayers under the clothes. He hears them just as well! God knowseverything. "

The young man nodded, and began moving about the stones onthe cairn. 

"You mustn't hurt that, " said Pelle firmly, "for there's a littlebaby buried there. "

The young man turned upon him a strange look. 

"That's not true!" he said thickly; "for the child lies up inthe churchyard in consecrated earth. "

"O--oh, inde--ed?" said Pelle, imitating his father's slow tones. "But I know it was the parents that drowned it--and buried it here. "He was too proud of his knowledge to relinquish it without a word. 

The man looked as if he were about to strike him, and Pelleretreated a little, and then, having confidence in his legs, he laughed openly. But the other seemed no longer aware of hispresence, and stood looking dully past the cairn. Pelle drewnearer again. 

The man started at Pelle's shadow, and heaved a deep sigh. "Is thatyou?" he said apathetically, without looking at Pelle. "Why can'tyou leave me alone?"

"It's _my_ field, " said Pelle, "because I herd here; but youmay stay here if you won't hit me. And you mustn't touch the cairn, because there's a little baby buried there. "

The young man looked gravely at Pelle. "It's not true what yousay! How dare you tell such a lie? God hates a lie. But you'rea simple-hearted child, and I'll tell you all about it withouthiding anything, as truly as I only want to walk wholly in God'ssight. "

Pelle looked at him uncomprehendingly. "I should think I ought toknow all about it, " he said, "considering I know the whole song byheart. I can sing it to you, if you like. It goes like this. " Pellebegan to sing in a voice that was a little tremulous with shyness--

 "So happy are we in our childhood's first years, Neither sorrow nor sin is our mead; We play, and there's nought in our path to raise fears That it straight into prison doth lead. 

 Right many there are that with voice sorrowful Must oft for lost happiness long. To make the time pass in this prison so dull, I now will write down all my song. 

 I played with my father, with mother I played, And childhood's days came to an end; And when I had grown up into a young maid, I played still, but now with my friend. 

 I gave him my day and I gave him my night, And never once thought of deceit; But when I him told of my sorrowful plight, My trust I had cause to regret. 

 'I never have loved you, ' he quickly did say; 'Begone! I'll ne'er see you again!' He turned on his heel and went angry away. 'Twas then I a murd'ress became. "

Here Pelle paused in astonishment, for the grown-up man had sunkforward as he sat, and he was sobbing. "Yes, it was wicked, " hesaid. "For then she killed her child and had to go to prison. " Hespoke with a certain amount of contempt; he did not like men thatcried. "But it's nothing that you need cry about, " he addedcarelessly, after a little. 

"Yes, it is; for she'd done nothing. It was the child's father thatkilled it; it was me that did the dreadful thing; yes, I confessthat I'm a murderer! Haven't I openly enough acknowledged bywrongdoing?" He turned his face upward, as though he were speakingto God. 

"Oh, was it you?" said Pelle, moving a little away from him. "Didyou kill your own child? Father Lasse could never have done that!But then why aren't you in prison? Did you tell a lie, and say_she'd_ done it?"

These words had a peculiar effect upon the fisherman. Pelle stoodwatching him for a little, and then exclaimed: "You do talk soqueerly--'blop-blop-blop, ' just as if you were from another country. And what do you scrabble in the air with your fingers for, and cry?Will you get a thrashing when you get home?"

At the word "cry, " the man burst into a flood of tears. Pelle hadnever seen any one cry so unrestrainedly. His face seemed allblurred. 

"Will you have a piece of my bread-and-butter?" he asked, by way ofoffering comfort. "I've got some with sausage on. "

The fisherman shook his head. 

Pelle looked at the cairn. He was obstinate, and determined notto give in. 

"It _is_ buried there, " he said. "I've seen its soul myself, burning up on the top of the heap at night. That's because it can'tget into heaven. "

A horrible sound came from the fisherman's lips, a hollow groan thatbrought Pelle's little heart into his mouth. He began to jump up anddown in fear, and when he recovered his senses and stopped, he sawthe fisherman running with head bent low across the meadow, untilhe disappeared among the dunes. 

Pelle gazed after him in astonishment, and then moved slowly towardhis dinner-basket. The result of the encounter was, as far as ithad gone, a disappointment. He had sung to a perfect stranger, andthere was no denying that that was an achievement, considering howdifficult it often was only to answer "yes" or "no" to somebodyyou'd never seen before. But he had hardly more than begun theverses, and what made the performance remarkable was that he knewthe entire ballad by heart. He sang it now for his own benefit frombeginning to end, keeping count of the verses on his fingers; andhe found the most intense satisfaction in shouting it out at thetop of his voice. 

In the evening he as usual discussed the events of the day with hisfather, and he then understood one or two things that filled hismind with uncomfortable thoughts. Father Lasse's was as yet the onlyhuman voice that the boy wholly understood; a mere sigh or shake ofthe head from the old man had a more convincing power than wordsfrom any one else. 

"Alas!" he said again and again. "Evil, evil everywhere; sorrow andtrouble wherever you turn! He'd willingly give his life to go toprison in her stead, now it's too late! So he ran away when yousaid that to him? Well, well, it's not easy to resist the Word ofGod even from the lips of a child, when the conscience is sore; andtrading in the happiness of others is a bad way of earning a living. But now see about getting your feet washed, laddie. "

Life furnished enough to work at and struggle with, and a good dealto dread; but worse almost than all that would harm Pelle himself, were the glimpses he now and then had of the depths of humanity:in the face of these his child's brain was powerless. Why did themistress cry so much and drink secretly? What went on behind thewindows in the big house? He could not comprehend it, and every timehe puzzled his little brain over it, the uncomfortable feeling onlyseemed to stare out at him from all the window-panes, and sometimesenveloped him in all the horror of the incomprehensible. 

But the sun rode high in the heavens, and the nights were light. The darkness lay crouching under the earth and had no power. Andhe possessed the child's happy gift of forgetting instantly andcompletely. 

VI

Pelle had a quick pulse and much energy, and there was alwayssomething that he was attempting to overtake in his restless onwardrush--if nothing else, then time itself. Now the rye was all in, nowthe last stack disappeared from the field, the shadows grew longerevery day. But one evening the darkness surprised him before hisbedtime, and this made him serious. He no longer hastened on thetime, but tried to hold it back by many small sun-signs. 

One day the men's midday rest was taken off. They harnessed thehorses again as soon as they had eaten their dinner, and thechaff-cutting was put off until the evening. The horse-way lay onthe outer side of the stable, and none of the men cared to trampround out there in the dark, driving for the chaff-cutter, so Pellehad to do it. Lasse protested and threatened to go to the farmer, but it was of no use; every evening Pelle had to be out there fora couple of hours. They were his nicest hours that they took fromhim, the hours when he and Father Lasse pottered about in thestable, and talked themselves happily through all the day's troublesinto a common bright future; and Pelle cried. When the moon chasedthe clouds away and he could see everything round him distinctly, he allowed his tears to run freely; but on dark evenings he wasquiet and held his breath. Sometimes when it rained it was so darkthat the farm and everything disappeared; and then he saw hundredsof beings that at other times the light hid. They appeared out ofthe darkness, terribly big, or came sliding up to him upon theirbellies. He grew rigid as he gazed, and could not take his eyes fromthem. He sought shelter under the wall, and encouraged the horsefrom there; and one evening he ran in. They chased him out again, and he submitted to be chased, for when it came to the point hewas more afraid of the men inside than of the beings outside. Butone pitch-dark evening he was in an unusually bad way, and when hediscovered that the horse, his only comfort, was also afraid, hedropped everything and ran in for the second time. Threats werepowerless to make him go out again, and blows equally so, and oneof the men took him up and carried him out; but then Pelle forgoteverything, and screamed till the house shook. 

While they were struggling with him, the farmer came out. He wasvery angry when he heard what was the matter, and blew the foremanup sky high. Then he took Pelle by the hand, and went down with himto the cow-stable. "A man like you to be afraid of a little dark!"he said jokingly. "You must try to get the better of that. But ifthe men harm you, just you come to me. "

The plough went up and down the fields all day long, and made theearth dark in color, the foliage became variegated, and there wasoften sleet. The coats of the cattle grew thicker, their hair grewlong and stood up on their backs. Pelle had much to put up with, and existence as a whole became a shade more serious. His clothingdid not become thicker and warmer with the cold weather like thatof the cattle; but he could crack his whip so that it sounded, inthe most successful attempts, like little shots; he could thrashRud when there was no unfairness, and jump across the stream atits narrowest part. All that brought warmth to the body. 

The flock now grazed all over the farm-lands, wherever the cows hadbeen tethered; the dairy-cows being now indoors; or they went inlandon the fens, where all the farms had each a piece of grass-land. Here Pelle made acquaintance with herd-boys from the other farms, and looked into quite another world that was not ruled by bailiffand farm-pupil and thrashings, but where all ate at the same table, and the mistress herself sat and spun wool for the herd-boys'stockings. But he could never get in there, for they did not takeSwedes at the small farms, nor would the people of the island takeservice together with them. He was sorry for this. 

As soon as the autumn ploughing was started up on the fields, theboys, according to old custom, took down the boundary-fences and letall the animals graze together. The first few days it gave them moreto do, for the animals fought until they got to know one another. They were never wholly mingled; they always grazed in patches, eachfarm's flock by itself. The dinner-baskets were also put together, and one boy was appointed in turn to mind the whole herd. The otherboys played at robbers up among the rocks, or ran about in the woodsor on the shore. When it was really cold they lighted bonfires, orbuilt fireplaces of flat stones, where they roasted apples and eggswhich they stole from the farms. 

It was a glorious life, and Pelle was happy. It was true he was thesmallest of them all, and his being a Swede was a drawback to him. In the midst of their play, the others would sometimes begin tomimic his way of talking, and when he grew angry asked why he didnot draw his knife. But on the other hand he was from the biggestfarm, and was the only one that had bullocks in his herd; he wasnot behind them in physical accomplishments, and none of them couldcarve as he could. And it was his intention, when he grew big, tothrash them all. 

In the meantime he had to accommodate himself to circumstances, ingratiate himself with the big ones, wherever he discovered therewas a flaw in their relations to one another, and be obliging. Hehad to take his turn oftener than the others, and came off badly atmealtimes. He submitted to it as something unavoidable, and directedall his efforts toward getting the best that it was possible to getout of the circumstances; but he promised himself, as has been said, the fullest reparation when he grew big. 

Once or twice it became too hot for him, and he left the communityand kept by himself; but he soon returned to the others again. Hislittle body was bursting with courage to live the life, and wouldnot let him shirk it; he must take his chance--eat his way through. 

One day there came two new boys, who herded cattle from two farmson the other side of the stone-quarry. They were twins, and theirnames were Alfred and Albinus. They were tall, thin lads, who lookedas if they might have been half-starved when they were little; theirskin had a bluish tinge, and stood the cold badly. They were quickand active, they could overtake the quickest calf, they could walkon their hands and smoke at the same time, and not only vault butreally jump obstacles. They were not much good at fighting; theywere lacking in courage, and their ability forsook them in anemergency. 

There was something comical about the two brothers. "Here are thetwins, the twelvins!" cried the whole flock in greeting, the firstmorning they appeared. "Well, how many times have you had a baby inyour house since last year?" They belonged to a family of twelve, and among these there had twice been twins, and this of itself wasan inexhaustible source of raillery; and moreover they were halfSwedish. They shared the disadvantage with Pelle. 

But nothing seemed to have any effect upon them; they grinned ateverything, and gave themselves away still more. From all he saw andheard, Pelle could understand that there was something ridiculousabout their home in the eyes of the parish; but they did not mindthat. It was the fecundity of their parents that was the specialsubject of derision, and the two boys quite happily exposed themto ridicule, and would tell all about the most private home matters. One day when the flock had been most persistent in calling"Twelvins!" they said, grinning, that their mother would soon behaving a thirteenth. They were incapable of being wounded. 

Every time they exposed their parents to ridicule, it hurt Pelle, for his own feelings on this point were the most sacred that he had. Try as he would, he could not understand them; he had to go to hisfather with the matter one evening. 

"So they mock and make fun of their own parents?" said Lasse. "Thenthey'll never prosper in this world, for you're to honor your fatherand mother. Good parents who have brought them into the world withpain, and must toil hard, perhaps hunger and put up with muchthemselves, to get food and clothing for them! Oh, it's a shame!And you say their surname is Karlsson like ours, and that they liveon the heath behind the stone-quarry? Then they must be brotherKalle's sons! Why, bless my soul, if I don't believe that's it! Youask them tomorrow if their father hasn't a notch in his right ear!I did it myself with a piece of a horse-shoe when we were littleboys one day I was in a rage with him because he made fun of mebefore the others. He was just the same as those two, but he didn'tmean anything by it, there was nothing ill-natured about him. "

The boys' father _had_ a notch in his right ear. Pelle andthey were thus cousins; and the way that both they and their parentswere made fun of was a matter for both laughter and tears. In a way, Father Lasse too came in for a share of the ridicule, and thatthought was hardly to be endured. 

The other boys quickly discovered Pelle's vulnerable point, and usedit for their own advantage; and Pelle had to give way and put upwith things in order to keep his father out of their conversation. He did not always succeed, however. When they were in the mood, theysaid quite absurd things about one another's homes. They were notintended to be taken for more than they were worth, but Pelle didnot understand jokes on that head. One day one of the biggest boyssaid to him: "Do you know, your father was the cause of his ownmother's having a child!" Pelle did not understand the play of wordsin this coarse joke, but he heard the laughter of the others, andbecoming blind with rage, he flew at the big boy, and kicked him sohard in the stomach, that he had to keep his bed for several days. 

During those days, Pelle went about in fear and trembling. He darednot tell his father what had happened, for then he would be obligedto repeat the boy's ugly accusation, too; so he went about in dreadof the fatal consequences. The other boys had withdrawn themselvesfrom him, so as not to share the blame if anything came of it; theboy was a farmer's son--the only one in the company--and they hadvisions of the magistrate at the back of the affair, and perhaps acaning at the town-hall. So Pelle went by himself with his cattle, and had plenty of time to think about the event, which, by theforce of his lively imagination, grew larger and larger in itsconsequences, until at last it almost suffocated him with terror. Every cart he saw driving along the high-road sent a thrill throughhim; and if it turned up toward Stone Farm, he could distinctly seethe policemen--three of them--with large handcuffs, just as they hadcome to fetch Erik Erikson for ill-treating his wife. He hardlydared drive the cattle home in the evening. 

One morning the boy came herding over there with his cattle, andthere was a grown-up man with him, whom, from his clothes andeverything else about him, Pelle judged to be a farmer--was it theboy's father? They stood over there for a little while, talking tothe herd-boys, and then came across toward him, with the whole packat their heels, the father holding his son by the hand. 

The perspiration started from every pore of Pelle's body; his fearprompted him to run away, but he stood his ground. Together thefather and son made a movement with their hand, and Pelle raisedboth elbows to ward off a double box-on-the-ears. 

But they only extended their hands. "I beg your pardon, " said theboy, taking one of Pelle's hands; "I beg your pardon, " repeated thefather, clasping his other hand in his. Pelle stood in bewilderment, looking from one to the other. At first he thought that the man wasthe same as the one sent by God; but it was only his eyes--thosestrange eyes. Then he suddenly burst into tears and forgot all elsein the relief they brought from the terrible anxiety. The two spokea few kind words to him, and quietly went away to let him be alone. 

After this Pelle and Peter Kure became friends, and when Pellelearnt to know him better, he discovered that sometimes the boy hada little of the same look in his eyes as his father, and the youngfisherman, and the man that was sent by God. The remarkable coursethat the event had taken occupied his mind for a long time. One daya chance comparison of his experiences brought him to the discoveryof the connection between this mysterious expression in their eyesand their remarkable actions; the people who had looked at him withthose eyes had all three done unexpected things. And another day itdawned upon him that these people were _religious_; the boyshad quarrelled with Peter Kure that day, and had used the word asa term of abuse against his parents. 

There was one thing that was apparent, and outweighed everything, even his victory. He had entered the lists with a boy who was biggerand stronger than he, and had held his own, because for the firsttime in his life he had struck out recklessly. If you wanted tofight, you had to kick wherever it hurt most. If you only did that, and had justice on your side, you might fight anybody, even afarmer's son. These were two satisfactory discoveries, which forthe present nothing could disturb. 

Then he had defended his father; that was something quite new andimportant in his life. He required more space now. 

At Michaelmas, the cattle were taken in, and the last of the day-laborers left. During the summer, several changes had been madeamong the regular servants at the farm, but now, at term-day, nonewere changed; it was not the habit of Stone Farm to change servantsat the regular term-times. 

So Pelle again helped his father with the foddering indoors. By rights he should have begun to go to school, and a mildrepresentation of this fact was made to the farmer by the schoolauthorities; but the boy was very useful at home, as the care ofthe cattle was too much for one man; and nothing more was heardabout the matter. Pelle was glad it was put off. He had thoughtmuch about school in the course of the summer, and had invested itwith so much that was unfamiliar and great that he was now quiteafraid of it. 

VII

Christmas Eve was a great disappointment. It was the custom forthe herd-boys to come out and spend Christmas at the farms wherethey served in the summer, and Pelle's companions had told himof all the delights of Christmas--roast meat and sweet drinks, Christmas games and ginger-nuts and cakes; it was one endlesseating and drinking and playing of Christmas games, from the eveningbefore Christmas Eve until "Saint Knut carried Christmas out, " onJanuary 7th. That was what it was like at all the small farms, theonly difference being that those who were religious did not playcards, but sang hymns instead. But what they had to eat was justas good. 

The last few days before Christmas Pelle had to get up at two orhalf-past two to help the girls pluck poultry, and the old thatcherHolm to heat the oven. With this his connection with the delightsof Christmas came to an end. There was dried cod and boiled rice onChristmas Eve, and it tasted good enough; but of all the rest therewas nothing. There were a couple of bottles of brandy on the tablefor the men, that was all. The men were discontented and quarrelsome. They poured milk and boiled rice into the leg of the stocking thatKarna was knitting, so that she was fuming the whole evening; andthen sat each with his girl on his knee, and made ill-naturedremarks about everything. The old farm-laborers and their wives, who had been invited to partake of the Christmas fare, talked aboutdeath and all the ills of the world. 

Upstairs there was a large party. All the wife's relations wereinvited, and they were hard at work on the roast goose. The yard wasfull of conveyances, and the only one of the farm-servants who wasin good spirits was the head man, who received all the tips. Gustavwas in a thoroughly bad humor, for Bodil was upstairs helping towait. He had brought his concertina over, and was playing love-songs. It was putting them into better spirits, and the evil expression wasleaving their eyes; one after another they started singing, and itbegan to be quite comfortable down there. But just then a messagecame to say that they must make less noise, so the assembly broke up, the old people going home, and the young ones dispersing in couplesaccording to the friendships of the moment. 

Lasse and Pelle went to bed. 

"What's Christmas really for?" asked Pelle. 

Lasse rubbed his thigh reflectively. 

"It has to be, " he answered hesitatingly. "Yes, and then it's thetime when the year turns round and goes upward, you see! And ofcourse it's the night when the Child Jesus was born, too!" It tookhim a long time to produce this last reason, but when it did comeit was with perfect assurance. "Taking one thing with another, yousee, " he added, after a short pause. 

On the day after Christmas Day there was a kind of subscriptionmerrymaking at an enterprising crofter's down in the village; itwas to cost two and a half krones a couple for music, sandwiches, and spirits in the middle of the night, and coffee toward morning. Gustav and Bodil were going. Pelle at any rate saw a little ofChristmas as it passed, and was as interested in it as if itconcerned himself; and he gave Lasse no rest from his questionsthat day. So Bodil was still faithful to Gustav, after all!

When they got up the next morning, they found Gustav lying on theground by the cow-stable door, quite helpless, and his good clothesin a sad state. Bodil was not with him. "Then she's deceived him, "said Lasse, as they helped him in. "Poor boy! Only seventeen, anda wounded heart already! The women'll be his ruin one of these days, you'll see!"

At midday, when the farm-laborers' wives came to do the milking, Lasso's supposition was confirmed: Bodil had attached herself to atailor's apprentice from the village, and had left with him in themiddle of the night. They laughed pityingly at Gustav, and for sometime after he had to put up with their gibes at his ill-success;but there was only one opinion about Bodil. She was at liberty tocome and go with whomsoever she liked, but as long as Gustav waspaying for her amusements, she ought to have kept to him. Who butthe neighbor would keep the hens that ate their grain at home andlaid their eggs at the neighbor's?

There had as yet been no opportunity to visit Lasse's brother beyondthe stone-quarry, but it was to be done on the second day of the newyear. Between Christmas and the New Year the men did nothing afterdark, and it was the custom everywhere to help the herdsman withhis evening occupations. There was nothing of that here; Lasse wastoo old to assert himself, and Pelle too little. They might thinkthemselves lucky they did not have to do the foddering for the menwho went out as well as their own. 

But to-day it was to come off; Gustav and Long Ole had undertakento do the evening work. Pelle began to look forward to it as soonas he was up--he was up every day by half-past three. But as Lasseused to say, if you sing before breakfast you'll weep before night. 

After dinner, Gustav and Ole were standing grinding chopping knivesdown in the lower yard. The trough leaked, and Pelle had to pourwater on the grindstone out of an old kettle. His happiness couldbe seen on his face. 

"What are you so pleased about?" asked Gustav. "Your eyes areshining like the cat's in the dark. "

Pelle told him. 

"I'm afraid you won't get away!" said Ole, winking at Gustav. "We shan't get the chaff cut time enough to do the foddering. This grindstone's so confoundedly hard to turn, too. If only thathandle-turner hadn't been broken!"

Pelle pricked up his ears. "Handle-turner? What's that?" he asked. 

Gustav sprang round the grindstone, and slapped his thigh inenjoyment of the joke. 

"My goodness, how stupid you are! Don't you even know what ahandle-turner is? It's a thing you only need to put on to thegrindstone, and it turns it by itself. They've got one by-the-wayover at Kaase Farm, " he said, turning to Ole; "if only it wasn'tso far away. "

"Is it heavy?" asked Pelle, in a low voice; everything dependedupon the answer. "Can I lift it?" His voice trembled. 

"Oh, no, not so awfully heavy. You could carry it quite well. Butyou'd have to be very careful. "

"I can run over and fetch it; I'll carry it very carefully. " Pellelooked at them with a face that could not but inspire confidence. 

"Very well; but take a sack with you to put it in. And you'll haveto be as careful as the very devil, for it's an expensive thing. "

Pelle found a sack and ran off across the fields. He was asdelighted as a young kid, plucking at himself and everything ashe ran, and jumping aside to frighten the crows. He was overflowingwith happiness. He was saving the expedition for himself and FatherLasse. Gustav and Ole were good men! He would get back as quicklyas possible, so that they should not have to toil any more at thegrindstone. "What, are you back already?" they would say, and opentheir eyes. "Then you must have smashed that precious machine onthe way!" And they would take it carefully out of the sack, and itwould be quite safe and sound. "Well, you are a wonder of a boy!a perfect prince!" they would say. 

When he got to Kaase Farm, they wanted him to go in to a Christmasmeal while they were putting the machine into the sack; but Pellesaid "No" and held to it: he had not time. So they gave him apiece of cold apple out on the steps, so that he should not carryChristmas away. They all looked so pleasant, and every one came outwhen he hoisted the sack on his back and set off home. They toorecommended him to be very careful, and seemed anxious, as if hecould hardly realize what he was carrying. 

It was a good mile between the farms, but it was an hour and a halfbefore Pelle reached home, and then he was ready to drop. He darednot put down the sack to rest, but stumbled on step by step, onlyresting once by leaning against a stone fence. When at last hestaggered into the yard, every one came up to see the neighbor'snew handle-turner; and Pelle was conscious of his own importancewhen Ole carefully lifted the sack from his back. He leaned fora moment over toward the wall before he regained his balance; theground was so strange to tread upon now he was rid of his burden;it pushed him away. But his face was radiant. 

Gustav opened the sack, which was securely closed, and shook outits contents upon the stone pavement. They were pieces of brick, a couple of old ploughshares, and other similar things. Pelle staredin bewilderment and fear at the rubbish, looking as if he had justdropped from another planet; but when laughter broke out on allsides, he understood what it all meant, and, crouching down, hidhis face in his hands. He would not cry--not for the world; theyshould not have that satisfaction. He was sobbing in his heart, buthe kept his lips tightly closed. His body tingled with rage. Thebeasts! The wicked devils! Suddenly he kicked Gustav on the leg. 

"Aha, so he kicks, does he?" exclaimed Gustav, lifting him up intothe air. "Do you want to see a little imp from Smaaland?" Pellecovered his face with his arms and kicked to be let down; and healso made an attempt to bite. "Eh, and he bites, too, the littledevil!" Gustav had to hold him firmly so as to manage him. He heldhim by the collar, pressing his knuckles against the boy's throatand making him gasp, while he spoke with derisive gentleness. "Aclever youngster, this! He's scarcely out of long clothes, andwants to fight already!" Gustav went on tormenting him; it lookedas if he were making a display of his superior strength. 

"Well, now we've seen that you're the strongest, " said the headman at last, "so let him go!" and when Gustav did not respondimmediately, he received a blow from a clenched fist between hisshoulder-blades. Then the boy was released, and went over to thestable to Lasse, who had seen the whole thing, but had not daredto approach. He could do nothing, and his presence would only havedone harm. 

"Yes, and then there's our outing, laddie, " he explained, by way ofexcuse, while he was comforting the boy. "I could very well thrash apuppy like Gustav, but if I did we shouldn't get away this evening, for he wouldn't do our work. And none of the others, either, forthey all stick together like burrs. But you can do it yourself! Iverily believe you'd kick the devil himself, right on his club-foot!Well, well, it was well done; but you must be careful not to wasteyour powder and shot. It doesn't pay!"

The boy was not so easily comforted now. Deep down in his heartthe remembrance of his injury lay and pained him, because he hadacted in such good faith, and they had wounded him in his ready, cheerful confidence. What had happened had also stung his pride;he had walked into a trap, made a fool of himself for them. Theincident burnt into his soul, and greatly influenced his subsequentdevelopment. He had already found out that a person's word was notalways to be relied upon, and he had made awkward attempts to getbehind it. Now he would trust nobody straight away any more; and hehad discovered how the secret was to be found out. You only had tolook at people's eyes when they said anything. Both here and atKaase Farm the people had looked so strange about the handle-turner, as if they were laughing inside. And the bailiff had laughed thattime when he promised them roast pork and stewed rhubarb every day. They hardly ever got anything but herring and porridge. Peopletalked with two tongues; Father Lasse was the only one who did notdo it. 

Pelle began to be observant of his own face. It was the face thatspoke, and that was why it went badly with him when he tried toescape a thrashing by telling a white lie. And to-day's misfortunehad been the fault of his face; if you felt happy, you mustn't showit. He had discovered the danger of letting his mind lie open, andhis small organism set to work diligently to grow hard skin to drawover its vital parts. 

After supper they set off across the fields, hand in hand as usual. As a rule, Pelle chattered unceasingly when they were by themselves;but this evening he was quieter. The event of the afternoon wasstill in his mind, and the coming visit gave him a feeling ofsolemnity. 

Lasse carried a red bundle in his hand, in which was a bottle ofblack-currant rum, which they had got Per Olsen to buy in the townthe day before, when he had been in to swear himself free. It hadcost sixty-six ores, and Pelle was turning something over in hismind, but did not know whether it would do. 

"Father!" he said at last. "Mayn't I carry that a little way?"

"Gracious! Are you crazy, boy? It's an expensive article! And youmight drop it. "

"I wouldn't drop it. Well, only hold it for a little then? Mayn'tI, father? Oh do, father!"

"Eh, what an idea! I don't know what you'll be like soon, if youaren't stopped! Upon my word, I think you must be ill, you'regetting so tiresome!" And Lasse went on crossly for a little while, but then stopped and bent down over the boy. 

"Hold it then, you little silly, but be very careful! And youmustn't move a single step while you've got it, mind!"

Pelle clasped the bottle to his body with his arms, for he dared nottrust his hands, and pushed out his stomach as far as possible tosupport it. Lasse stood with his hands extended beneath the bottle, ready to catch it if it fell. 

"There! That'll do!" he said anxiously, and took the bottle. 

"It _is_ heavy!" said Pelle, admiringly, and went oncontentedly, holding his father's hand. 

"But why had he to swear himself free?" he suddenly asked. 

"Because he was accused by a girl of being the father of her child. Haven't you heard about it?"

Pelle nodded. "Isn't he, then? Everybody says he is. "

"I can hardly believe it; it would be certain damnation for PerOlsen. But, of course, the girl says it's him and no one else. Ahme! Girls are dangerous playthings! You must take care when yourtime comes, for they can bring misfortune upon the best of men. "

"How do you swear, then? Do you say 'Devil take me'?"

Lasse could not help laughing. "No, indeed! That wouldn't be verygood for those that swear false. No, you see, in the court all God'shighest ministers are sitting round a table that's exactly like ahorseshoe, and beyond that again there's an altar with the crucifiedChrist Himself upon it. On the altar lies a big, big book that'sfastened to the wall with an iron chain, so that the devil can'tcarry it off in the night, and that's God's Holy Word. When a manswears, he lays his left hand upon the book, and holds up his righthand with three fingers in the air; they're God the Father, Son andHoly Ghost. But if he swears false, the Governor can see it at once, because then there are red spots of blood on the leaves of thebook. "

"And what then?" asked Pelle, with deep interest. 

"Well, then his three fingers wither, and it goes on eating itselfinto his body. People like that suffer frightfully; they rot rightaway. "

"Don't they go to hell, then?"

"Yes, they do that too, except when they give themselves up and taketheir punishment, and then they escape in the next life; but theycan't escape withering away. "

"Why doesn't the Governor take them himself and punish them, whenhe can see in that book that they swore false?"

"Why, because then they'd get off going to hell, and there's anagreement with Satan that he's to have all those that don't givethemselves up, don't you see?"

Pelle shuddered, and for a little while walked on in silence besidehis father; but when he next spoke, he had forgotten all about it. 

"I suppose Uncle Kalle's rich, isn't he?" he asked. 

"He can't be rich, but he's a land-owner, and that's not a littlething!" Lasse himself had never attained to more than renting land. 

"When I grow up, I mean to have a great big farm, " said Pelle, withdecision. 

"Yes, I've no doubt you will, " said Lasse, laughing. Not that healso did not expect something great of the boy, if not exactly alarge farmer. There was no saying, however. Perhaps some farmer'sdaughter might fall in love with him; the men of his familygenerally had an attraction for women. Several of them had givenproof of it--his brother, for instance, who had taken the fancyof a parson's wife. Then Pelle would have to make the most of hisopportunity so that the family would be ashamed to oppose the match. And Pelle was good enough. He had that "cow's-lick" on his forehead, fine hair at the back of his neck, and a birth-mark on his hip; andthat all betokened luck. Lasse went on talking to himself as hewalked, calculating the boy's future with large, round figures, that yielded a little for him too; for, however great his futuremight be, it would surely come in time to allow of Lasse's sharingand enjoying it in his very old age. 

They went across country toward the stone-quarry, following stonedikes and snow-filled ditches, and working their way through thethicket of blackthorn and juniper, behind which lay the rocks and"the Heath. " They made their way right into the quarry, and triedin the darkness to find the place where the dross was thrown, forthat would be where the stone-breaking went on. 

A sound of hammering came from the upper end of the ground, and theydiscovered lights in several places. Beneath a sloping straw screen, from which hung a lantern, sat a little, broad man, hammering awayat the fragments. He worked with peculiar vivacity--struck threeblows and pushed the stones to one side, another three blows, andagain to one side; and while with one hand he pushed the piecesaway, with the other he placed a fresh fragment in position on thestone. It went as busily and evenly as the ticking of a watch. 

"Why, if that isn't Brother Kalle sitting there!" said Lasse, ina voice of surprise as great as if the meeting were a miracle fromheaven. "Good evening, Kalle Karlsson! How are you?"

The stone-breaker looked up. 

"Oh, there you are, brother!" he said, rising with difficulty; andthe two greeted one another as if they had met only the day before. Kalle collected his tools and laid the screen down upon them whilethey talked. 

"So you break stones too? Does that bring in anything?" asked Lasse. 

"Oh, not very much. We get twelve krones a 'fathom' and when I workwith a lantern morning and evening, I can break half a fathom in aweek. It doesn't pay for beer, but we live anyhow. But it's awfullycold work; you can't keep warm at it, and you get so stiff withsitting fifteen hours on the cold stone--as stiff as if you werethe father of the whole world. " He was walking stiffly in front ofthe others across the heath toward a low, hump-backed cottage. 

"Ah, there comes the moon, now there's no use for it!" said Kalle, whose spirits were beginning to rise. "And, my word, what a sightthe old dormouse looks! He must have been at a New Year's feastin heaven. "

"You're the same merry devil that you were in the old days, " saidLasse. 

"Well, good spirits'll soon be the only thing to be had withoutpaying for. "

The wall of the house stuck out in a large round lump on one side, and Pelle had to go up to it to feel it all over. It was mostmysterious what there might be on the other side--perhaps a secretchamber? He pulled his father's hand inquiringly. 

"That? That's the oven where they bake their bread, " said Lasse. "It's put there to make more room. "

After inviting them to enter, Kalle put his head in at a door thatled from the kitchen to the cowshed. "Hi, Maria! You must put yourbest foot foremost!" he called in a low voice. "The midwife's here!"

"What in the world does she want? It's a story, you old fool!" Andthe sound of milk squirting into the pail began again. 

"A story, is it? No, but you must come in and go to bed; she saysit's high time you did. You are keeping up much too long this year. Mind what you say, " he whispered into the cowshed, "for she is reallyhere! And be quick!"

They went into the room, and Kalle went groping about to light acandle. Twice he took up the matches and dropped them again to lightit at the fire, but the peat was burning badly. "Oh, bother!" hesaid, resolutely striking a match at last. "We don't have visitorsevery day. "

"Your wife's Danish, " said Lasse, admiringly. "And you've gota cow too?"

"Yes, it's a biggish place here, " said Kalle, drawing himself up. "There's a cat belonging to the establishment too, and as many ratsas it cares to eat. "

His wife now appeared, breathless, and looking in astonishment atthe visitors. 

"Yes, the midwife's gone again, " said Kalle. "She hadn't timeto-day; we must put it off till another time. But these areimportant strangers, so you must blow your nose with your fingersbefore you give them your hand!"

"Oh, you old humbug! You can't take me in. It's Lasse, of course, and Pelle!" And she held out her hand. She was short, like herhusband, was always smiling, and had bowed arms and legs just ashe had. Hard work and their cheerful temperament gave them botha rotund appearance. 

"There are no end of children here, " said Lasse, looking about him. There were three in the turn-up bedstead under the window--two smallones at one end, and a long, twelve-year-old boy at the other, hisblack feet sticking out between the little girls' heads; and otherbeds were made up on chairs, in an old kneading-trough, and on thefloor. 

"Ye-es; we've managed to scrape together a few, " said Kalle, running about in vain to get something for his visitors to situpon; everything was being used as beds. "You'll have to spit onthe floor and sit down on that, " he said, laughing. 

His wife came in, however, with a washing-bench and an emptybeer-barrel. 

"Sit you down and rest, " she said, placing the seats round thetable. "And you must really excuse it, but the children must besomewhere. "

Kalle squeezed himself in and sat down upon the edge of the turn-upbedstead. "Yes, we've managed to scrape together a few, " he repeated. "You must provide for your old age while you have the strength. We've made up the dozen, and started on the next. It wasn't exactlyour intention, but mother's gone and taken us in. " He scratched theback of his head, and looked the picture of despair. 

His wife was standing in the middle of the room. "Let's hope itwon't be twins this time too, " she said, laughing. 

"Why, that would be a great saving, as we shall have to send forthe midwife anyhow. People say of mother, " he went on, "that whenshe's put the children to bed she has to count them to make surethey're all there; but that's not true, because she can't countfarther than ten. "

Here a baby in the alcove began to cry, and the mother took it upand seated herself on the edge of the turn-up bedstead to nurse it. "And this is the smallest, " he said, holding it out toward Lasse, who put a crooked finger down its neck. 

"What a little fatty!" he said softly; he was fond of children. "And what's its name?"

"She's called Dozena Endina, because when she came we thought thatwas to be the last; and she was the twelfth too. "

"Dozena Endina! That's a mighty fine name!" exclaimed Lasse. "Itsounds exactly as if she might be a princess. "

"Yes, and the one before's called Ellen--from eleven, of course. That's her in the kneading-trough, " said Kalle. "The one beforethat again is Tentius, and then Nina, and Otto. The ones before thatweren't named in that way, for we hadn't thought then that there'dbe so many. But that's all mother's fault; if she only puts a patchon my working-trousers, things go wrong at once. "

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, trying to get out of it likethat, " said his wife, shaking her finger at him. "But as for that, "she went on, turning to Lasse, "I'm sure the others have nothingto complain of either, as far as their names are concerned. Albert, Anna, Alfred, Albinus, Anton, Alma and Alvilda--let me see, yes, that's the lot. None of them can say they've not been treatedfairly. Father was all for A at that time; they were all to rhymewith A. Poetry's always come so easy to him. " She looked admiringlyat her husband. 

Kalle blinked his eyes in bashfulness. "No, but it's the firstletter, you see, and it sounds pretty, " he said modestly. 

"Isn't he clever to think of a thing like that? He ought to havebeen a student. Now _my_ head would never have been any goodfor anything of that sort. He wanted, indeed, to have the namesboth begin and end with A, but that wouldn't do with the boys, sohe had to give that up. But then he hasn't had any book-learningeither. "

"Oh, that's too bad, mother! I didn't give it up. I'd made up a namefor the first boy that had A at the end too; but then the priest andthe clerk objected, and I had to let it go. They objected to DozenaEndina too, but I put my foot down; for I can be angry if I'mirritated too long. I've always liked to have some connection andmeaning in everything; and it's not a bad idea to have somethingthat those who look deeper can find out. Now, have you noticedanything special about two of these names?"

"No, " answered Lasse hesitatingly, "I don't know that I have. ButI haven't got a head for that sort of thing either. "

"Well, look here! Anna and Otto are exactly the same, whether youread them forward or backward--exactly the same. I'll just showyou. " He took down a child's slate that was hanging on the wall witha stump of slate-pencil, and began laboriously to write the names. "Now, look at this, brother!"

"I can't read, " said Lasse, shaking his head hopelessly. "Doesit really give the same both ways? The deuce! That _is_remarkable!" He could not get over his astonishment. 

"But now comes something that's still more remarkable, " said Kalle, looking over the top of the slate at his brother with the gaze ofa thinker surveying the universe. "Otto, which can be read from bothends, means, of course, eight; but if I draw the figure 8, it can beturned upside down, and still be the same. Look here!" He wrote thefigure eight. 

Lasse turned the slate up and down, and peered at it. 

"Yes, upon my word, it is the same! Just look here, Pelle! It's likethe cat that always comes down upon its feet, no matter how you dropit. Lord bless my soul! how nice it must be to be able to spell! Howdid you learn it, brother?"

"Oh, " said Kalle, in a tone of superiority. "I've sat and looked ona little when mother's been teaching the children their ABC. It'snothing at all if your upper story's all right. "

"Pelle'll be going to school soon, " said Lasse reflectively. "Andthen perhaps _I_ could--for it would be nice. But I don'tsuppose I've got the head for it, do you? No, I'm sure I haven'tgot the head for it, " he repeated in quite a despairing tone. 

Kalle did not seem inclined to contradict him, but Pelle made up hismind that some day he would teach his father to read and write--muchbetter than Uncle Kalle could. 

"But we're quite forgetting that we brought a Christmas bottlewith us!" said Lasse, untying the handkerchief. 

"You _are_ a fellow!" exclaimed Kalle, walking delightedlyround the table on which the bottle stood. "You couldn't havegiven us anything better, brother; it'll come in handy for thechristening-party. 'Black Currant Rum'--and with a gold border--howgrand!" He held the label up toward the light, and looked round withpleasure in his eyes. Then he hesitatingly opened the cupboard inthe wall. 

"The visitors ought to taste what they brought, " said his wife. 

"That's just what was bothering me!" said Kalle, turning round witha disconsolate laugh. "For they ought, of course. But if the cork'sonce drawn, you know how it disappears. " He reached out slowly forthe corkscrew which hung on a nail. 

But Lasse would not hear of it; he would not taste the beverage forthe world. Was black-currant rum a thing for a poor beggar like himto begin drinking--and on a weekday, too? No, indeed!

"Yes, and you'll be coming to the christening-party, you two, ofcourse, " said Kalle, relieved, putting the bottle into the cupboard. "But we'll have a 'cuckoo, ' for there's a drop of spirits left fromChristmas Eve, and I expect mother'll give us coffee. "

"I've got the coffee on, " answered his wife cheerfully. 

"Did you ever know such a wife! You can never wish for anything butwhat it's there already!"

Pelle wondered where his two herding-comrades, Alfred and Albinus, were. They were away at their summer places, taking their share ofthe good Christmas fare, and would not be back before "Knut. " "Butthis fellow here's not to be despised, " said Kalle, pointing tothe long boy in the turn-up bed. "Shall we have a look at him?" And, pulling out a straw, he tickled the boy's nose with it. "Get up, mygood Anton, and harness the horses to the wheelbarrow! We're goingto drive out in state. "

The boy sat up and began to rub his eyes, to Kalle's great delight. At last he discovered that there were strangers present, and drewon his clothes, which had been doing duty as his pillow. Pelle andhe became good friends at once, and began to play; and then Kallehit upon the idea of letting the other children share in themerry-making, and he and the two boys went round and tickled themawake, all the six. His wife protested, but only faintly; she waslaughing all the time, and herself helped them to dress, while shekept on saying: "Oh, what foolishness! Upon my word, I never knewthe like of it! Then this one shan't be left out either!" she addedsuddenly, drawing the youngest out of the alcove. 

"Then that's the eight, " said Kalle, pointing to the flock. "Theyfill the room well, don't they? Alma and Alvilda are twins, asyou can see. And so are Alfred and Albinus, who are away now forChristmas. They're going to be confirmed next summer, so they'llbe off my hands. "

"Then where are the two eldest?" asked Lasse. 

"Anna's in service in the north, and Albert's at sea, out witha whaler just now. He's a fine fellow. He sent us his portraitin the autumn. Won't you show it us, Maria?"

His wife began slowly to look for it, but could not find it. 

"I think I know where it is, mother, " said one of the little girlsover and over again; but as no one heard what she said, she climbedup on to the bench, and took down an old Bible from the shelf. Thephotograph was in it. 

"He is a fine fellow, and no mistake!" said Lasse. "There's a pairof shoulders! He's not like our family; it must be from yours, Maria, that he's got that carriage. "

"He's a Kongstrup, " said Kalle, in a low tone. 

"Oh, indeed, is he?" said Lasse hesitatingly, recollecting JohannaPihl's story. 

"Maria was housemaid at the farm, and he talked her over as he hasdone with so many. It was before my time, and he did what he ought. "

Maria was standing looking from one to the other of them witha meaningless smile, but her forehead was flushed. 

"There's gentle blood in that boy, " said Kalle admiringly. "He holdshis head differently from the others. And he's good--so tremendouslygood. " Maria came slowly up to him, leaned her arm upon his shoulder, and looked at the picture with him. "He is good, isn't he, mother?"said Kalle, stroking her face. 

"And so well-dressed he is too!" exclaimed Lasse. 

"Yes, he takes care of his money. He's not dissipated, like hisfather; and he's not afraid of parting with a ten-krone note whenhe's at home here on a visit. "

There was a rustling at the inner door, and a little, wrinkled oldwoman crept out onto the threshold, feeling her way with her feet, and holding her hands before her face to protect it. "Is any onedead?" she asked as she faced the room. 

"Why, there's grandmother!" said Kalle. "I thought you'd be inyour bed. "

"And so I was, but then I heard there were strangers here, and onelikes to hear the news. Have there been any deaths in the parish?"

"No, grandmother, there haven't. People have something better todo than to die. Here's some one come to court you, and that's muchbetter. This is mother-in-law, " he said, turning to the others;"so you can guess what she's like. "

"Just you come here, and I'll mother-in-law you!" said the old lady, with a feeble attempt to enter into the gaiety. "Well, welcome tothis house then, " she said, extending her hand. 

Kalle stretched his out first, but as soon as she touched it, shepushed it aside, saying: "Do you think I don't know you, you fool?"She felt Lasse's and Pelle's hands for a long time with her softfingers before she let them go. "No, I don't know you!" she said. 

"It's Brother Lasse and his son down from Stone Farm, " Kalleinformed her at last. 

"Aye, is it really? Well, I never! And you've come over the sea too!Well, here am I, an old body, going about here quite alone; and I'velost my sight too. "

"But you're not _quite_ alone, grandmother, " said Kalle, laughing. "There are two grown-ups and half a score of childrenabout you all day long. "

"Ah yes, you can say what you like, but all those I was young withare dead now, and many others that I've seen grow up. Every weeksome one that I know dies, and here am I still living, only to bea burden to others. "

Kalle brought in the old lady's arm-chair from her room, andmade her sit down. "What's all that nonsense about?" he saidreproachfully. "Why, you pay for yourself!"

"Pay! Oh dear! They get twenty krones a year for keeping me, "said the old woman to the company in general. 

The coffee came in, and Kalle poured brandy into the cups of allthe elder people. "Now, grandmother, you must cheer up!" he said, touching her cup with his. "Where the pot boils for twelve, it boilsfor the thirteenth as well. Your health, grandmother, and may youstill live many years to be a burden to us, as you call it!"

"Yes, I know it so well, I know it so well, " said the old woman, rocking backward and forward. "You mean so well by it all. But withso little wish to live, it's hard that I should take the food out ofthe others' mouths. The cow eats, and the cat eats, the children eat, we all eat; and where are you, poor things, to get it all from!"

"Say 'poor thing' to him who has no head, and pity him who hastwo, " said Kalle gaily. 

"How much land have you?" asked Lasse. 

"Five acres; but it's most of it rock. "

"Can you manage to feed the cow on it then?"

"Last year it was pretty bad. We had to pull the roof off theouthouse, and use it for fodder last winter; and it's thrown usback a little. But dear me, it made the loft all the higher. " Kallelaughed. "And now there'll always be more and more of the childrengetting able to keep themselves. "

"Don't those who are grown up give a hand too?" asked Lasse. 

"How can they? When you're young, you can use what you've gotyourself. They must take their pleasures while there's time; theyhadn't many while they were children, and once they're married andsettled they'll have something else to think about. Albert is goodenough when he's at home on a visit; last time he gave us ten kronesand a krone to each of the children. But when they're out, you knowhow the money goes if they don't want to look mean beside theircompanions. Anna's one of those who can spend all they get onclothes. She's willing enough to do without, but she never hasa farthing, and hardly a rag to her body, for all that she'sfor ever buying. "

"No, she's the strangest creature, " said her mother. "She nevercan make anything do. "

The turn-up bedstead was shut to give room to sit round the table, and an old pack of cards was produced. Every one was to play exceptthe two smallest, who were really too little to grasp a card; Kallewanted, indeed, to have them too, but it could not be managed. Theyplayed beggar-my-neighbor and Black Peter. Grandmother's cards hadto be read out to her. 

The conversation still went on among the elder people. 

"How do you like working for the farmer at Stone Farm?" asked Kalle. 

"We don't see much of the farmer himself; he's pretty nearly alwaysout, or sleeping after a night on the loose. But he's nice enoughin other ways; and it's a house where they feed you properly. "

"Well, there are places where the food's worse, " said Kalle, "butthere can't be many. Most of them, certainly, are better. "

"Are they really?" asked Lasse, in surprise. "Well, I don't complainas far as the food's concerned; but there's a little too much forus two to do, and then it's so miserable to hear that woman cryingnearly the whole time. I wonder if he ill-treats her; they say not. "

"I'm sure he doesn't, " said Kalle. "Even if he wanted to--as youcan very well understand he might--he dursn't. He's afraid of her, for she's possessed by a devil, you know. "

"They say she's a were-wolf at night, " said Lasse, looking as ifhe expected to see a ghost in one of the corners. 

"She's a poor body, who has her own troubles, " said Maria, "andevery woman knows a little what that means. And the farmer's notall kindness either, even if he doesn't beat her. She feels hisunfaithfulness more than she'd feel anything else. "

"Oh, you wives always take one another's part, " said Kalle, "butother people have eyes too. What do _you_ say, grandmother?You know that better than any one else. "

"Well, I know something about it at any rate, " said the old woman. "I remember the time when Kongstrup came to the island as well asif it had been yesterday. He owned nothing more than the clotheshe wore, but he was a fine gentleman for all that, and lived inCopenhagen. "

"What did he want over here?" asked Lasse. 

"What did he want? To look for a young girl with money, I suppose. He wandered about on the heath here with his gun, but it wasn'tfoxes he was after. She was fooling about on the heath too, admiringthe wild scenery, and nonsense like that, and behaving half likea man, instead of being kept at home and taught to spin and makeporridge; but she was the only daughter, and was allowed to go onjust as she liked. And then she meets this spark from the town, andthey become friends. He was a curate or a pope, or something of thesort, so you can't wonder that the silly girl didn't know what shewas doing. "

"No, indeed!" said Lasse. 

"There's always been something all wrong with the women of thatfamily, " the old woman continued. "They say one of them once gaveherself to Satan, and since then he's had a claim upon them andill-treats them whenever the moon's waning, whether they like itor not. He has no power over the pure, of course; but when these twohad got to know one another, things went wrong with her too. He musthave noticed it, and tried to get off, for they said that the oldfarmer of Stone Farm compelled him with his gun to take her for hiswife; and he was a hard old dog, who'd have shot a man down as soonas look at him. But he was a peasant through and through, who worehome-woven clothes, and wasn't afraid of working from sunrise tosunset. It wasn't like what it is now, with debts and drinking andcard-playing, so people had something then. "

"Well, now they'd like to thresh the corn while it's still standing, and they sell the calves before they're born, " said Kalle. "But Isay, grandmother, you're Black Peter!"

"That comes of letting one's tongue run on and forgetting to lookafter one's self!" said the old lady. 

"Grandmother's got to have her face blacked!" cried the children. She begged to be let off, as she was just washed for the night;but the children blacked a cork in the stove and surrounded her, and she was given a black streak down her nose. Every one laughed, both old and young, and grandmother laughed with them, saying itwas a good thing she could not see it herself. "It's an ill wind, "she said, "that blows nobody any good. But I should like to have mysight again, " she went on, "if it's only for five minutes, beforeI die. It would be nice to see it all once more, now that the treesand everything have grown so, as Kalle says they have. The wholecountry must have changed. And I've never seen the youngest childrenat all. "

"They say that they can take blindness away over in Copenhagen, "said Kalle to his brother. 

"It would cost a lot of money, wouldn't it?" asked Lasse. 

"It would cost a hundred krones at the very least, " the grandmotherremarked. 

Kalle looked thoughtful. "If we were to sell the whole bloomingthing, it would be funny if there wasn't a hundred krones over. And then grandmother could have her sight again. "

"Goodness gracious me!" exclaimed the old woman. "Sell your houseand home! You must be out of your mind! Throw away a large capitalupon an old, worn-out thing like me, that has one foot in the grave!I couldn't wish for anything better than what I have!" She had tearsin her eyes. "Pray God I mayn't bring about such a misfortune in myold age!"

"Oh, rubbish! We're still young, " said Kalle. "We could very wellbegin something new, Maria and me. "

"Have none of you heard how Jacob Kristian's widow is?" asked theold lady by way of changing the subject. "I've got it into my headthat she'll go first, and then me. I heard the crow calling overthere last night. "

"That's our nearest neighbor on the heath, " explained Kalle. "Is shefailing now? There's been nothing the matter with her this winterthat I know of. "

"Well, you may be sure there's something, " said the old womanpositively. "Let one of the children run over there in the morning. "

"Yes, if you've had warning. Jacob Kristian gave good enough warninghimself when he went and died. But we were good friends for manyyears, he and me. "

"Did he show himself?" asked Lasse solemnly. 

"No; but one night--nasty October weather it was--I was woke bya knocking at the outside door. That's a good three years ago. Maria heard it too, and we lay and talked about whether I shouldget up. We got no further than talking, and we were just droppingoff again, when the knocking began again. I jumped up, put on apair of trousers, and opened the door a crack, but there was no onethere. 'That's strange!' I said to Maria, and got into bed again;but I'd scarcely got the clothes over me, when there was a knockingfor the third time. 

"I was cross then, and lighted the lantern and went round the house;but there was nothing either to be seen or heard. But in the morningthere came word to say that Jacob Kristian had died in the nightjust at that time. "

Pelle, who had sat and listened to the conversation, pressedclose up to his father in fear; but Lasse himself did not lookparticularly valiant. "It's not always nice to have anything todo with the dead, " he said. 

"Oh, nonsense! If you've done no harm to any one, and giveneverybody their due, what can they do to you?" said Kalle. The grandmother said nothing, but sat shaking her head verysignificantly. 

Maria now placed upon the table a jar of dripping and a large loafof rye-bread. 

"That's the goose, " said Kalle, merrily sticking his sheath-knifeinto the loaf. "We haven't begun it yet. There are prunes inside. And that's goose-fat. Help yourselves!"

After that Lasse and Pelle had to think about getting home, andbegan to tie handkerchiefs round their necks; but the others did notwant to let them go yet. They went on talking, and Kalle made jokesto keep them a little longer. But suddenly he turned as grave as ajudge; there was a low sound of crying out in the little passage, and some one took hold of the handle of the door and let go of itagain. "Upon my word, it's ghosts!" he exclaimed, looking fearfullyfrom one to another. 

The sound of crying was heard again, and Maria, clasping her handstogether, exclaimed: "Why, it's Anna!" and quickly opened the door. Anna entered in tears, and was attacked on all sides with surprisedinquiries, to which her sobs were her only answer. 

"And you've been given a holiday to come and see us at Christmastime, and you come home crying! You are a nice one!" said Kalle, laughing. "You must give her something to suck, mother!"

"I've lost my place, " the girl at last got out between her sobs. 

"No, surely not!" exclaimed Kalle, in changed tones. "But what for?Have you been stealing? Or been impudent?"

"No, but the master accused me of being too thick with his son. "

In a flash the mother's eyes darted from the girl's face to herfigure, and she too burst into tears. 

Kalle could see nothing, but he caught his wife's action andunderstood. "Oh!" he said quietly. "Is that it?" The little manwas like a big child in the way the different expressions came andwent upon his good-natured face. At last the smile triumphed again. "Well, well, that's capital!" he exclaimed, laughing. "Shouldn'tgood children take the work off their parents' shoulders as theygrow up and are able to do it? Take off your things, Anna, and sitdown. I expect you're hungry, aren't you? And it couldn't havehappened at a better time, as we've got to have the midwifeanyhow!"

Lasse and Pelle drew their neckerchiefs up over their mouths aftertaking leave of every one in the room, Kalle circling round themrestlessly, and talking eagerly. "Come again soon, you two, andthanks for this visit and your present, Brother Lasse! Oh, yes!"he said suddenly at the outside door, and laughed delightedly;"it'll be something grand--brother-in-law to the farmer in a way!Oh, fie, Kalle Karlsson! You and I'll be giving ourselves airs now!"He went a little way along the path with them, talking all the time. Lasse was quite melancholy over it. 

Pelle knew quite well that what had happened to Anna was looked uponas a great disgrace, and could not understand how Uncle Kalle couldseem so happy. "Ah, yes, " said Lasse, as they stumbled along amongthe stones. "Kalle's just like what he always was! He laughs whereothers would cry. "

It was too dark to go across the fields, so they took the quarryroad south to get down to the high-road. At the cross-roads, thefourth arm of which led down to the village, stood the country-shop, which was also a hedge-alehouse. 

As they approached the alehouse, they heard a great noise inside. Then the door burst open, and some men poured out, rolling thefigure of a man before them on the ground. "The police have takenthem by surprise!" said Lasse, and drew the boy with him out intothe ploughed field, so as to get past without being seen. But atthat moment some one placed a lamp in the window, and they werediscovered. 

"There's the Stone Farm herdsman!" said a voice. "Hi, Lasse! Comehere!" They went up and saw a man lying face downward on the ground, kicking; his hands were tied behind his back, and he could not keephis face out of the mud. 

"Why, it's Per Olsen!" exclaimed Lasse. 

"Yes, of course!" said the shopkeeper. "Can't you take him homewith you? He's not right in his head. "

Lasse looked hesitatingly at the boy, and then back again. "A ravingman?" he said. "We two can't alone. "

"Oh, his hands are tied. You've only got to hold the end of the ropeand he'll go along quietly with you, " said one of the men. They werequarrymen from the stone-quarry. "You'll go with them quietly, won'tyou?" he asked, giving the man a kick in the side with the toe ofhis wooden shoe. 

"Oh dear! Oh dear!" groaned Per Olsen. 

"What's he done?" asked Lasse. "And why have you ill-used him so?"

"We had to thrash him a little, because he was going to chop offone of his thumbs. He tried it several times, the beast, and got ithalf off; and we had to beat him to make him stop. " And they showedLasse the man's thumb, which was bleeding. "Such an animal to begincutting and hacking at himself because he's drunk half a pint ofgin! If he wanted to fight, there were men enough here withoutthat!"

"It must be tied up, or he'll bleed to death, poor fellow!" saidLasse, slowly drawing out his red pocket-handkerchief. It was hisbest handkerchief, and it had just been washed. The shopkeeper camewith a bottle and poured spirit over the thumb, so that the coldshould not get into it. The wounded man screamed and beat his faceupon the ground. 

"Won't one of you come with us?" asked Lasse. But no one answered;they wanted to have nothing to do with it, in case it should cometo the ears of the magistrate. "Well, then, we two must do it withGod's help, " he said, in a trembling voice, turning to Pelle. "Butyou can help him up at any rate, as you knocked him down. "

They lifted him up. His face was bruised and bleeding; in theireagerness to save his finger, they had handled him so roughly thathe could scarcely stand. 

"It's Lasse and Pelle, " said the old man, trying to wipe his face. "You know us, don't you, Per Olsen? We'll go home with you if you'llbe good and not hurt us; we mean well by you, we two. "

Per Olsen stood and ground his teeth, trembling all over his body. "Oh dear, oh dear!" was all he said. There was white foam at thecorners of his mouth. 

Lasse gave Pelle the end of the rope to hold. "He's grinding histeeth; the devil's busy with him already, " he whispered. "But if hetries to do any harm, just you pull with all your might at the rope;and if the worst comes to the worst, we must jump over the ditch. "

They now set off homeward, Lasse holding Per Olsen under the arm, for he staggered and would have fallen at almost every step. Hekept on murmuring to himself or grinding his teeth. 

Pelle trudged behind, holding the rope. Cold shivers ran down hisback, partly from fear, partly from secret satisfaction. He hadnow seen some one whom he knew to be doomed to perdition! So thosewho became devils in the next world looked like Per Olsen? But hewasn't unkind! He was the nicest of the farm men to Pelle, and hehad bought that bottle for them--yes, and had advanced the moneyout of his own pocket until May-day!

VIII

Oh! what a pace she was driving at! The farmer whipped up the graystallion, and sat looking steadily out over the fields, as if he hadno suspicion that any one was following him; but his wife certainlydid not mind. She whipped the bay as hard as she could, and did notcare who saw her. 

And it was in broad daylight that they were playing the fool likethis on the high-road, instead of keeping their quarrels within fourwalls as decent people did! It was true enough that gentle folks hadno feeling of shame in them!

Then she called out and stood up in the trap to beat the horse--withthe handle even! Couldn't she let him drive out in peace to his faircharmer, whoever she was, and make it warm for him when he camehome? How could she do the same thing over and over again for twentyyears? Really women were persevering creatures!

And how _he_ could be bothered! Having everlasting disturbancesat home for the sake of some hotel landlady or some other woman, who could not be so very different to be with than his own wife! Itwould take a long-suffering nature to be a brute in that way; butthat must be what they call love, properly speaking. 

The threshing-machine had come to a standstill, and the people atStone Farm were hanging out of the doors and windows, enjoying itroyally. It was a race, and a sight for the gods to see the bay maregaining upon the stallion; why, it was like having two Sundays inone week! Lasse had come round the corner, and was following the madrace, his hand shading his eyes. Never had he known such a woman;Bengta was a perfect lamb compared to her! The farmer at Kaase Farm, who was standing at his gate when they dashed past, was secretlyof the same opinion; and the workers in the fields dropped theirimplements, stared and were scandalized at the sight. 

At last, for very shame, he had to stop and turn round. She crawledover into his carriage, and the bay followed quietly with her emptyvehicle. She put her arm about his shoulder, and looked happy andtriumphant, exactly like the district policeman when he has had asuccessful chase; but he looked like a criminal of the worst kind. In this way they came driving back to the farm. 

One day Kalle came to borrow ten krones and to invite Lasse andPelle to the christening-party on the following Sunday. Lasse, with some difficulty, obtained the money from the bailiff up in theoffice, but to the invitation they had to say "No, thank you, " hardthough it was; it was quite out of the question for them to get offagain. Another day the head man had disappeared. He had gone in thenight, and had taken his big chest with him, so some one must havehelped him; but the other men in the room swore solemnly that theyhad noticed nothing, and the bailiff, fume as he might, was obligedto give up the attempt to solve the mystery. 

One or two things of this kind happened that made a stir for a dayor two, but with these exceptions the winter was hard to get through. Darkness ruled for the greater part of the twenty-four hours, andit was never quite light in the corners. The cold, too, was hardto bear, except when you were in the comfortable stable. In thereit was always warm, and Pelle was not afraid of going about in thethickest darkness. In the servants' room they sat moping through thelong evenings without anything to occupy themselves with. They tookvery little notice of the girls, but sat playing cards for gin, ortelling horrible stories that made it a most venturesome thing torun across the yard down to the stable when you had to go to bed. 

Per Olsen, on account of his good behavior, was raised to theposition of head man when the other ran away. Lasse and Pelle wereglad of this, for he took their part when they were put upon by anyone. He had become a decent fellow in every respect, hardly evertouched spirits, and kept his clothes in good order. He was a littletoo quiet even for the old day-laborers of the farm and their wives;but they knew the reason of it and liked him because he took thepart of the weak and because of the fate that hung over him. Theysaid he was always listening; and when he seemed to be listeningwithin to the unknown, they avoided as far as possible disturbinghim. 

"You'll see he'll free himself; the Evil One'll have no claim uponhim, " was the opinion of both Lasse and the laborers' wives whenthey discussed Per Olsen's prospects at the Sunday milking. "Thereare some people that even the Almighty can't find anything to blamefor. "

Pelle listened to this, and tried every day to peep at the scar onPer Olsen's thumb. It would surely disappear when God removed hisjudgment!

During most of the winter Pelle drove the horse for the threshing-machine. All day he trotted round upon the horse-way outside thefarm, over his wooden shoes in trodden-down snow and manure. It wasthe most intolerable occupation that life had yet offered him. Hecould not even carve, it was too cold for his fingers; and he feltlonely. As a herd-boy he was his own master, and a thousand thingscalled to him; but here he had to go round and round behind a bar, always round. His one diversion was to keep count of the times hedrove round, but that was a fatiguing employment and made you evenduller than the everlasting going round, and you could not leaveoff. Time held nothing of interest, and short as it was the dayseemed endless. 

As a rule, Pelle awoke happy, but now every morning when he wokehe was weary of everything; it was to be that everlasting trudginground behind the bar. After a time doing this for about an hour usedto make him fall into a state of half-sleep. The condition cameof itself, and he longed for it before it came. It was a kind ofvacuity, in which he wished for nothing and took no interest inanything, but only staggered along mechanically at the back of thebar. The machine buzzed unceasingly, and helped to maintain thecondition; the dust kept pouring out at the window, and the timepassed imperceptibly. Generally now dinner or evening surprised him, and sometimes it seemed to him that the horses had only just beenharnessed when some one came out to help him in with them. He hadarrived at the condition of torpor that is the only mercy that lifevouchsafes to condemned prisoners and people who spend their livesbeside a machine. But there was a sleepiness about him even in hisfree time; he was not so lively and eager to know about everything;Father Lasse missed his innumerable questions and little devices. 

Now and again he was roused for a moment out of his condition bythe appearance at the window of a black, perspiring face, that sworeat him because he was not driving evenly. He knew then that Long Olehad taken the place of Per Olsen, whose business it was to feedthe machine. It sometimes happened, too, that the lash of the whipcaught on the axle and wound round it, so that the whole thing hadto be stopped and drawn backward; and that day he did not fall intoa doze again. 

In March the larks appeared and brought a little life. Snow stilllay in the hollows, but their singing reminded Pelle warmly ofsummer and grazing cattle. And one day he was wakened in his trampround and round by seeing a starling on the roof of the house, whistling and preening its feathers in delight. On that day thesun shone brightly, and all heaviness was gone from the air; butthe sea was still a pale gray down there. 

Pelle began to be a human being again. It was spring, and then, too, in a couple of days the threshing would be finished. But after all, the chief thing was that waistcoat-pocket of his; that was enoughto put life into its owner. He ran round in a trot behind the bar;he had to drive quickly now in order to get done, for every one elsewas in the middle of spring ploughing already. When he pressed hishand against his chest, he could distinctly feel the paper it waswrapped in. For it was still there, wasn't it? It would not do toopen the paper and look; he must find out by squeezing. 

Pelle had become the owner of fifty ores--a perfectly genuinefifty-ore piece. It was the first time he had ever possessedanything more than two and one ore pieces, and he had earned itby his own cleverness. 

It was on Sunday, when the men had had a visit from some quarrymen, and one of them had hit upon the idea of sending for some birch-fatto have with their dram. Pelle was to run to the village shop forit, and he was given a half-krone and injunctions to go in the backway, as it was Sunday. Pelle had not forgotten his experience atChristmas, and kept watch upon their faces. They were all doingtheir best to smooth them out and busy themselves with one thingand another; and Gustav, who gave him the money, kept turning hisface away and looking at something out in the yard. 

When he stated his errand, the shopman's wife broke into a laugh. "I say, don't you know better than that?" she exclaimed. "Why, wasn't it you who fetched the handle-turner too? You've all foundthat very useful, haven't you?"

Pelle turned crimson. "I thought they were making fun of me, butI didn't dare say no, " he said in a low voice. 

"No, one has to play the fool sometimes, whether one is it or not, "said the woman. 

"What is birch-fat, then?" asked Pelle. 

"Why, my gracious! You must have had it many a time, you little imp!But it shows how often you have to put up with things you don't knowthe name of. "

A light dawned upon Pelle. "Does it mean a thrashing witha birch-rod?"

"Didn't I say you knew it?"

"No, I've only had it with a whip--on my legs. "

"Well, well, you needn't mind that; the one may be just as good asthe other. But now sit down and drink a cup of coffee while I wrapup the article for them. " She pushed a cup of coffee with brownsugar toward him, and began ladling out soft soap on to a pieceof paper. "Here, " she said. "You give them that: it's the bestbirch-fat. And you can keep the money yourself. "

Pelle was not courageous enough for this arrangement. 

"Very well, then, " she said. "I'll keep the money for you. Theyshan't make fools of us both. And then you can get it yourself. But now you must put on a bold face. "

Pelle did put on a bold face, but he was decidedly nervous. The menswore at the loss of the half-krone, and called him the "greatestidiot upon God's green earth"; but he had the satisfaction ofknowing that that was because he had not been stupid enough. Andthe half-krone was his!

A hundred times a day he felt it without wearing it out. Here atlast was something the possession of which did not rob it of itslustre. There was no end to the purchases he made with it, now forLasse, now for himself. He bought the dearest things, and when helingered long enough over one purchase and was satiated with thepossession of it, he set about buying something else. And all thewhile he kept the coin. At times he would be suddenly seized withan insane fear that the money was gone; and then when he felt it, he was doubly happy. 

Pelle had suddenly become a capitalist, and by his own cleverness;and he made the most of his capital. He had already obtained everydesirable thing that he knew of--he had it all, at any rate, in hand;and gradually as new things made their appearance in his world, hesecured for himself the right to their purchase. Lasse was the onlyperson who knew about his wealth, and he had reluctantly to allowhimself to be drawn into the wildest of speculations. 

He could hear by the sound that there was something wrong with themachine. The horses heard it too, and stopped even before some onecried "Stop!" Then one after another came the shouts: "Stop! Driveon! Stop! On again! Stop! Pull!" And Pelle pulled the bar back, drove on and pulled until the whole thing whizzed again. Then heknew that it was Long Ole feeding the machine while Per Olsenmeasured the grain: Ole was a duffer at feeding. 

It was going smoothly again, and Pelle was keeping an eye on thecorner by the cow-stable. When Lasse made his appearance there, andpatted his stomach, it meant that it was nearly dinner-time. 

Something stopped the bar, the horses had to pull hard, and witha jerk it cleared the invisible hindrance. There was a cry from theinside of the threshing-barn, and the sound of many voices shouting"Stop!" The horses stopped dead, and Pelle had to seize the bar toprevent it swinging forward against their legs. It was some timebefore any one came out and took the horses in, so that Pelle couldgo into the barn and see what was the matter. 

He found Long Ole walking about and writhing over one of his hands. His blouse was wrapped about it, but the blood was dripping throughon to the floor of the barn. He was bending forward and stumblingalong, throwing his body from side to side and talking incoherently. The girls, pale and frightened, were standing gazing at him whilethe men were quarreling as to what was the best thing to do to stopthe flow of blood, and one of them came sliding down from the loftwith a handful of cobwebs. 

Pelle went and peered into the machine to find out what there wasso voracious about it. Between two of the teeth lay something likea peg, and when he moved the roller, the greater part of a fingerdropped down on to the barn floor. He picked it up among some chaff, and took it to the others: it was a thumb! When Long Ole saw it, hefainted; it could hardly be wondered at, seeing that he was maimedfor life. But Per Olsen had to own that he had left the machine ata fortunate moment. 

There was no more threshing done that day. In the afternoon Pelleplayed in the stable, for he had nothing to do. While he played, hesuggested plans for their future to his father: they were engrossedin it. 

"Then we'll go to America, and dig for gold!"

"Ye-es, that wouldn't be a bad thing at all. But it would take agood many more half-krones to make that journey. "

"Then we can set up as stone-masons. "

Lasse stood still in the middle of the foddering-passage, andpondered with bent head. He was exceedingly dissatisfied with theirposition; there were two of them toiling to earn a hundred krones, and they could not make ends meet. There was never any libertyeither; they were simply slaves. By himself he never got any fartherthan being discontented and disappointed with everything; he wastoo old. The mere search for ways to something new was insuperablelabor, and everything looked so hopeless. But Pelle was restless, and whenever he was dissatisfied with anything, made plans by thescore, some of the wildest, and some fairly sensible; and the oldman was carried away by them. 

"We might go to the town and work too, " said Lasse meditatively. "They earn one bright krone after another in there. But what's tobe done with you? You're too little to use a tool. "

This stubborn fact put a stop for the moment to Pelle's plans; butthen his courage rose again. "I can quite well go with you to thetown, " he said. "For I shall----" He nodded significantly. 

"What?" asked Lasse, with interest. 

"Well, perhaps I'll go down to the harbor and be doing nothing, anda little girl'll fall into the water and I shall save her. But thelittle girl will be a gentleman's daughter, and so----" Pelle leftthe rest to Lasse's imagination. 

"Then you'd have to learn to swim first, " said Lasse gravely. "Or you'd only be drowned. "

Screams were heard from the men's bedroom. It was Long Ole. Thedoctor had come and was busy with his maimed hand. "Just run acrossand find out what'll happen to it!" said Lasse. "Nobody'll pay anyattention to you at such a time, if you make yourself small. "

In a little while Pelle came back and reported that three fingerswere quite crushed and hanging in rags, and the doctor had cutthem off. 

"Was it these three?" asked Lasse, anxiously, holding up his thumb, forefinger, and middle finger. Truth to tell, Pelle had seen nothing, but his imagination ran away with him. 

"Yes, it was his swearing-fingers, " he said, nodding emphatically. 

"Then Per Olsen is set free, " said Lasse, heaving a deep sigh. "Whata _good_ thing it has been--quite providential!"

That was Pelle's opinion too. 

The farmer himself drove the doctor home, and a little while afterhe had gone, Pelle was sent for, to go on an errand for the mistressto the village-shop. 

IX

It was nothing for Pelle; if he were vanquished on one point, herose again on two others: he was invincible. And he had the child'sabundant capacity for forgiving; had he not he would have hated allgrown-up people with the exception of Father Lasse. But disappointedhe certainly was. 

It was not easy to say who had expected most--the boy, whosechildish imagination had built, unchecked, upon all that he hadheard, or the old man, who had once been here himself. 

But Pelle managed to fill his own existence with interest, and wasso taken up on all sides that he only just had time to realize thedisappointment in passing. His world was supersensual like thatof the fakir; in the course of a few minutes a little seed couldshoot up and grow into a huge tree that overshadowed everythingelse. Cause never answered to effect in it, and it was governed byanother law of gravitation: events always bore him up. 

However hard reality might press upon him, he always emerged fromthe tight place the richer in some way or other; and no danger couldever become overwhelmingly great as long as Father Lasse stoodreassuringly over and behind everything. 

But Lasse had failed him at the decisive moment more than once, andevery time he used him as a threat, he was only laughed at. The oldman's omnipotence could not continue to exist side by side with hisincreasing decrepitude; in the boy's eyes it crumbled away from dayto day. Unwilling though he was, Pelle had to let go his providence, and seek the means of protection in himself. It was rather early, but he looked at circumstances in his own way. Distrust he hadalready acquired--and timidity! He daily made clumsy attempts toget behind what people said, and behind things. There was somethingmore behind everything! It often led to confusion, but occasionallythe result was conspicuously good. 

There were some thrashings that you could run away from, because inthe meantime the anger would pass away, and other thrashings whereit answered best to shed as many tears as possible. Most peopleonly beat until the tears came, but the bailiff could not endurea blubberer, so with him the thing was to set your teeth and makeyourself hard. People said you should speak the truth, but mostthrashings could be avoided by making up a white lie, if it wasa good one and you took care of your face. If you told the truth, they thrashed you at once. 

With regard to thrashing, the question had a subjective side aswell as an objective one. He could beat Rud whenever he liked, butwith bigger boys it was better to have right on his side, as, forinstance, when his father was attacked. Then God helped him. Thiswas a case in which the boy put the omnipotence quite aside, andfelt himself to be the old man's protector. 

Lasse and Pelle were walking through life hand in hand, and yet eachwas going his own way. Lasse felt it to be so. "We've each got holdof an end, " he sometimes said to himself despondently, when thedifference was all too marked. "He's rising, the laddie!"

This was best seen in the others. In the long run they had to likethe boy, it could not be otherwise. The men would sometimes give himthings, and the girls were thoroughly kind to him. He was in thefairest period of budding youth; they would often take him on theirknees as he passed, and kiss him. 

"Ah, he'll be a lady's man, he will!" Lasse would say. "He's gotthat from his father. " But they would laugh at that. 

There was always laughter when Lasse wanted to join the elders. Last time--yes, then he was good enough. It was always "Where'sLasse?" when gin was going round, or tricks were being played, ordemonstrations made. "Call Lasse Karlsson!" He had no need to pushhimself forward; it was a matter of course that he was there. Thegirls were always on the look-out for him, married man though hewas, and he had fun with them--all quite proper, of course, forBengta was not good to quarrel with if she heard anything. 

But now! Yes--well, yes--he might fetch the gin for the others anddo their work for them when they had a holiday, without their doinganything in exchange! "Lasse! Where's Lasse? Can you feed the horsesfor me this evening? Can you take my place at the chaff-cuttingto-morrow evening?"

There was a difference between then and now, and Lasse had foundout the reason for himself: he was getting old. The very discoverybrought further proof of its correctness, laid infirmity upon him, and removed the tension from his mind, and what was left of it fromhis body. The hardest blow of all was when he discovered that he wasof no importance to the girls, had no place at all in their thoughtsof men. In Lasse's world there was no word that carried such weightas the word "man"; and in the end it was the girls who decidedwhether you were one or not. Lasse was not one; he was not dangerous!He was only a few poor relics of a man, a comical remnant of someby-gone thing; they laughed at him when he tried to pay themattention. 

Their laughter crushed him, and he withdrew into his old-man's world, and despondently adapted himself to it. The only thing that keptlife in him was his concern for the boy, and he clung despairinglyto his position as his providence. There was little he could do forhim, and therefore he talked all the bigger; and when anything wentagainst the boy, he uttered still greater threats against the worldthan before. He also felt that the boy was in process of makinghimself independent, and fought a desperate battle to preserve thelast appearance of power. 

But Pelle could not afford to give support to his fancy, nor had hethe understanding to do it. He was growing fast, and had a use forall that he possessed himself. Now that his father no longer stoodbehind to shield him, he was like a small plant that has been movedout into the open, and is fighting hard to comprehend the nature ofits surroundings, and adapt itself to them. For every root-fibrethat felt its way into the soil, there fell to the ground one ofthe tender leaves, and two strong ones pushed forth. One afteranother the feelings of the child's defencelessness dropped andgave place to the harder ones of the individual. 

The boy was engaged in building himself up, in accordance withinvisible laws. He assumed an attitude toward his surroundings atall points, but he did not imitate them. The farm men, for instance, were not kind to the animals. They often lashed the horses only asa vent for their ill-humor, and the girls were just the same to thesmaller animals and the dairy-cows. From these considerations, Pelletaught himself sympathy. He could not bear cruelty to animals, andthrashed Rud for the first time when the latter had one day robbeda bird's nest. 

Pelle was like a kid that makes a plaything of everything. Inhis play he took up, without suspecting it, many of the seriousphenomena of life, and gambolled with them in frolicsome bounds. Heexercised his small mind as he exercised his body, twisted himselfinto everything and out of everything, imitated work and fun andshirking, and learned how to puff himself up into a very devil ofa fellow where his surroundings were yielding, and to make himselfalmost invisible with modesty when they were hard. He was traininghimself to be that little Jack-of-all-trades, man. 

And it became more and more difficult to catch him unprepared. Thefirst time he had to set about a thing in earnest, he was generallyhandy at it; he was as difficult to take unawares as a cat. 

 * * * * *

It was summer again. The heat stood still and played over theground, sparkling, with indolent voluptuousness and soft movementslike the fish in the stream. Far inland it quivered above the rocksthat bounded the view, in a restless flicker of bluish white; belowlay the fields beneath the broiling sun, with the pollen from therye drifting over them like smoke. Up above the clover-field stoodthe cows of Stone Farm in long rows, their heads hanging heavilydown, and their tails swinging regularly. Lasse was moving betweentheir ranks, looking for the mallet, and now and then gazinganxiously down towards the meadow by the dunes, and beginning tocount the young cattle and the bullocks. Most of them were lyingdown, but a few of them were standing with their heads closetogether, and munching with closed eyes. The boys were nowhereto be seen. 

Lasse stood wondering whether he should give Pelle a warning call;there would he no end of a row if the bailiff were to come now. But then the sound of voices came from among the young firs on thedunes, a naked boy appeared, and then another. Their bodies werelike golden flashes in the air as they ran over the grass-wrack andacross the meadow, each with his cap held closed in his hand. 

They sat down upon the edge of the stream with their feetin the water, and carefully uncovered their captives; they weredragon-flies. As the insects one by one crawled out at the narrowopening, the boys decapitated them and laid them in a row on thegrass. They had caught nine, and nine times thirty-five--well, itwould be more than three krones. The stupendous amount made Pelleskeptical. 

"Now isn't that only a lie?" he said, and licked his shoulder wherehe had been bitten by a mosquito. It was said that the chemist gavethirty-five ores apiece for dragon-flies. 

"A lie?" exclaimed Rud. "Yes, perhaps it is, " he went on meekly. "It must be a lie, for anything like that always is. You mightgive me yours too!"

But Pelle would not do that. 

"Then give me your half-krone, and I'll go to the town and sellthem for you. They cost thirty-five ores, for Karl says so, and hismother washes the floor in the chemist's shop. "

Pelle got up, not to fetch the half-krone--he would not part withthat for all the world--but to assure himself that it still lay inhis waistcoat pocket. 

When he had gone a little way, Rud hastily lifted a piece of turfat the edge of the stream, pushed something in under it, and jumpedinto the water; and when Pelle came back with slow, ominous steps, he climbed up the other side and set off at a run. 

Pelle ran too, in short, quick leaps. He knew he was the quicker, and the knowledge made him frolicsome. He flapped at his naked bodyas he ran, as if he had no joints, swayed from side to side likea balloon, pranced and stamped on the ground, and then dartedon again. Then the young firs closed round them again, only themovement of their tops showing where the boys ran, farther andfarther, until all was still. 

In the meadow the cattle were munching with closed eyes andattentive ears. The heat played over the ground, flickering, gasping, like a fish in water. There was a heavy, stupefyinghumming in the air; the sound came from everywhere and nowhere. 

Down across the cornfields came a big, stout woman. She wore askirt, a chemise, and a handkerchief on her head, and she shadedher eyes with her hand and looked about. She crossed the meadowobliquely, found Pelle's dinner-basket, took out its contents andput them in under her chemise upon her bare, perspiring bosom, and then turned in the direction of the sea. 

There was a sudden break in the edge of the fir-plantation, andout came Rud with Pelle hanging upon his back. Rud's inordinatelylarge head hung forward and his knees gave way; his forehead, which receded above the eyes and projected just below the lineof the hair, was a mass of bruises and scars, which became veryvisible now with his exertions. Both the boys had marks all overtheir bodies from the poison of the pine-needles. Pelle dropped onto the grass, and lay there on his face, while Rud went slowly tofetch the half-krone, and handed it reluctantly to its owner. Hestooped like one vanquished, but in his eye the thought of a newbattle lay awaiting its opportunity. 

Pelle gazed lovingly at the coin. He had had it now ever since April, from the time when he was sent to buy birch-fat. He had purchasedwith it everything that was desirable, and he had lost it twice: heloved that piece of money. It made his fingers itch, his whole body;it was always urging him on to spend it, now in one way and now inanother. Roll, roll! That was what it was longing to do; and it wasbecause it was round, Father Lasse said. But to become rich--thatmeant stopping the money as it rolled. Oh, Pelle meant to be rich!And then he was always itching to spend it--spend it in such a waythat he got everything for it, or something he could have all hislife. 

They sat upon the bank of the stream and wrangled in a small way. Rud did his best to inspire awe, and bragged to create an impression. He bent his fingers backward and moved his ears; he could move themforward in a listening position like a horse. All this irritatedPelle intensely. 

Suddenly he stopped. "Won't you give me the half-krone, then? Youshall have ten krones when I grow up. " Rud collected money--he wasavaricious already--and had a whole boxful of coins that he hadstolen from his mother. 

Pelle considered a little. "No, " he said. "Because you'll never growup; you're a dwarf!" The tone of his voice was one of sheer envy. 

"That's what the Sow says too! But then I'll show myself for moneyat the fairs and on Midsummer Eve on the common. Then I shall getfrightfully rich. "

Pelle was inwardly troubled. Should he give him the whole fifty oresfor nothing at all? He had never heard of any one doing such a thing. And perhaps some day, when Rud had become enormously rich, he wouldget half of it. "Will you have it?" he asked, but regretted itinstantly. 

Rud stretched out his hand eagerly, but Pelle spat into it. "It canwait until we've had our dinner anyhow, " he said, and went over tothe basket. For a little while they stood gazing into the emptybasket. 

"The Sow's been here, " said Rud, putting out his tongue. 

Pelle nodded. "She _is_ a beast!"

"A thief, " said Rud. 

They took the sun's measure. Rud declared that if you could see itwhen you bent down and looked between your legs, then it was fiveo'clock. Pelle began to put on his clothes. 

Rud was circling about him. "I say!" he said suddenly. "If I mayhave it, I'll let you whip me with nettles. "

"On your bare body?" asked Pelle. 

Rud nodded. 

In a second Pelle was out of his trousers again, and running toa patch of nettles. He pulled them up with the assistance of adock-leak, as many as he could hold, and came back again. Rud laydown, face downwards, on a little mound, and the whipping began. 

The agreement was a hundred strokes, but when Rud had received ten, he got up and refused to have any more. 

"Then you won't get the money, " said Pelle. "Will you or won't you?"He was red with excitement and the exertion, and the perspirationalready stood in beads down his slender back, for he had worked witha will. "Will you or won't you? Seventy-five strokes then!" Pelle'svoice quivered with eagerness, and he had to dilate his nostrils toget air enough; his limbs began to tremble. 

"No--only sixty--you hit so hard! And I must have the money first, or you may cheat me. "

"I don't cheat, " said Pelle gloomily. But Rud held to his point. 

Pelle's body writhed; he was like a ferret that has tasted blood. With a jerk he threw the coin at Rud, and grumbling, pushed himdown. He wept inwardly because he had let him off forty strokes;but he made up his mind to lay into him all the harder for it. 

Then he beat, slowly and with all his might, while Rud burrowed withhis head in the grass and clasped the money tightly to keep up hisstrength. There was hatred in every stroke that Pelle struck, andthey went like shocks through his playmate's body, but he neveruttered a cry. No, there was no point in his crying, for the coinhe held in his hand took away the pain. But about Pelle's body theair burnt like fire, his arms began to give way with fatigue, andhis inclination diminished with every stroke. It was toil, nothingbut hard toil. And the money--the beautiful half-krone--was slippingfarther and farther away, and he would be poor once more; and Rudwas not even crying! At the forty-sixth stroke he turned his faceand put out his tongue, whereat Pelle burst into a roar, threw downthe frayed nettle-stalks, and ran away to the fir-plantation. 

There he sat for the rest of the day under a dune, grieving overhis loss, while Rud lay under the bank of the stream, bathing hisblistered body with wet earth. 

X

After all, Per Olsen was not the sort of man they had thought him. Now that he had been set free in that way, the thing would have beenfor him to have given a helping hand to that poor fellow, Long Ole;for after all it was for his sake that Ole's misfortune had comeupon him. But did he do it? No, he began to amuse himself. It wasdrinking and dissipation and petticoats all the summer through; andnow at Martinmas he left and took work at the quarry, so as to bemore his own master. There was not sufficient liberty for him atStone Farm. What good there was left in him would find somethingto do up there. 

Long Ole could not, of course, remain at Stone Farm, crippled ashe was. Through kindness on the part of the farmer, he was paid hishalf-wage; that was more than he had any claim to, and enough at anyrate to take him home and let him try something or other. There weremany kinds of work that at a pinch could be performed with one hand;and now while he had the money he ought to have got an iron hook; itcould be strapped to the wrist, and was not bad to hold tools with. 

But Ole had grown weak and had great difficulty in making up hismind. He continued to hang about the farm, notwithstanding all thatthe bailiff did to get him away. At last they had to put his thingsout, to the west of the farm; and there they lay most of the summer, while he himself slept among the stacks, and begged food of theworkers in the fields. But this could not go on when the cold setin. 

But then one day in the autumn, his things were gone. Johanna Pihl--commonly called the Sow--had taken him in. She felt the cold, too, in spite of her fat, and as the proverb says: It's easier for twoto keep warm than one; but whatever was her reason for doing it, LongOle might thank his Maker for her. There was always bacon hanging inher chimney. 

Lasse and Pelle looked forward to term-day with anxiety. Whatchanges would it bring this time for people? So much depended onthat. Besides the head man, they were to have new second and thirdmen and some new maids. They were always changing at Stone Farm whenthey could. Karna, poor soul, was bound to stay, as she had set hermind upon youth, and would absolutely be where Gustav was! Gustavstayed because Bodil stayed, so unnaturally fond was he of thatgirl, although she was not worth it. And Bodil herself knew wellenough what she was doing! There must be more in it than met the eyewhen a girl dressed, as she did, in expensive, town-bought clothes. 

Lasse and Pelle _remained_, simply because there was no otherplace in the world for them to go to. All through the year theymade plans for making a change, but when the time for giving noticeapproached, Lasse became quiet and let it go past. 

Of late he had given no little thought to the subject of marryingagain. There was something God-forsaken about this solitaryexistence for a man of his age; you became old and worn out beforeyour time, when you hadn't a wife and a house. On the heath nearBrother Kalle's, there was a house that he could have without payinganything down. He often discussed it with Pelle, and the boy wasready for anything new. 

It should be a wife who could look after everything and make thehouse comfortable; and above all she must be a hard-working woman. It would not come amiss either if she had a little of her own, butlet that be as it might, if only she was good-natured. Karna wouldhave suited in all respects, both Lasse and Pelle having always hada liking for her ever since the day she freed Pelle from the pupil'sclutches; but it was nothing to offer her as long as she was so setupon Gustav. They must bide their time; perhaps she would come toher senses, or something else might turn up. 

"Then there'd be coffee in bed on Sunday mornings!" said Pelle, with rapture. 

"Yes, and perhaps we'd get a little horse, and invite Brother Kallefor a drive now and then, " added Lasse solemnly. 

At last it was really to be! In the evening Lasse and Pelle hadbeen to the shop and bought a slate and pencil, and Pelle was nowstanding at the stable-door with a beating heart and the slate underhis arm. It was a frosty October morning, but the boy was quite hotafter his wash. He had on his best jacket, and his hair had beencombed with water. 

Lasse hovered about him, brushing him here and there with his sleeve, and was even more nervous than the boy. Pelle had been born to poorcircumstances, had been christened, and had had to earn his breadfrom the time he was a little boy--all exactly as he had donehimself. So far there was no difference to be seen; it might verywell have been Lasse himself over again, from the big ears and the"cow's-lick" on the forehead, to the way the boy walked and wore outthe bottoms of his trouser-legs. But this was something strikinglynew. Neither Lasse nor any of his family had ever gone to school;it was something new that had come within the reach of his family, a blessing from Heaven that had fallen upon the boy and himself. It felt like a push upward; the impossible was within reach; whatmight not happen to a person who had book-learning! You might becomemaster of a workshop, a clerk, perhaps even a schoolmaster. 

"Now do take care of the slate, and see that you don't break it!"he said admonishingly. "And keep out of the way of the big boysuntil you can hold your own with them. But if any of them simplywon't let you alone, mind you manage to hit first! That takes theinclination out of most of them, especially if you hit hard; he whohits first hits twice, as the old proverb says. And then you mustlisten well, and keep in mind all that your teacher says; and ifanyone tries to entice you into playing and larking behind his back, don't do it. And remember that you've got a pocket-handkerchief, and don't use your fingers, for that isn't polite. If there's no oneto see you, you can save the handkerchief, of course, and then it'lllast all the longer. And take care of your nice jacket. And if theteacher's lady invites you in to coffee, you mustn't take more thanone piece of cake, mind. "

Lasse's hands trembled while he talked. 

"She's sure not to do that, " said Pelle, with a superior air. 

"Well, well, now go, so that you don't get there too late--the veryfirst day, too. And if there's some tool or other wanting, you mustsay we'll get it at once, for we aren't altogether paupers!" AndLasse slapped his pocket; but it did not make much noise, and Pelleknew quite well that they had no money; they had got the slate andpencil on credit. 

Lasse stood looking after the boy as long as he was in sight, andthen went to his work of crushing oilcakes. He put them into avessel to soak, and poured water on them, all the while talkingsoftly to himself. 

There was a knock at the outside stable-door, and Lasse went to openit. It was Brother Kalle. 

"Good-day, brother!" he said, with his cheerful smile. "Here comeshis Majesty from the quarries!" He waddled in upon his bow legs, and the two exchanged hearty greetings. Lasse was delighted at thevisit. 

"What a pleasant time we had with you the other evening!" saidLasse, taking his brother by the hand. 

"That's a long time ago now. But you must look in again one eveningsoon. Grandmother looks upon both of you with a favorable eye!"Kalle's eyes twinkled mischievously. 

"How is she, poor body? Has she at all got over the hurt to her eye?Pelle came home the other day and told me that the children had beenso unfortunate as to put a stick into her eye. It quite upset me. You had to have the doctor, too!"

"Well, it wasn't quite like that, " said Kalle. "I had movedgrandmother's spinning-wheel myself one morning when I was puttingher room to rights, and then I forgot to put it back in its place. Then when she was going to stoop down to pick up something from thefloor, the spindle went into her eye; of course she's used to haveeverything stand exactly in its place. So really the honor's dueto me. " He smiled all over his face. 

Lasse shook his head sympathetically. "And she got over it fairlywell?" he asked. 

"No; it went altogether wrong, and she lost the sight of that eye. "

Lasse looked at him with disapproval. 

Kalle caught himself up, apparently very much horrified. "Eh, whatnonsense I'm talking! She lost the _blindness_ of that eye, I ought to have said. _Isn't_ that all wrong, too? You putsomebody's eye out, and she begins to see! Upon my word, I thinkI'll set up as an eye-doctor after this, for there's not muchdifficulty in it. "

"What do you say? She's begun to--? Now you're too merry! Yououghtn't to joke about everything. "

"Well, well, joking apart, as the prophet said when his wifescratched him--she can really see with that eye now. "

Lasse looked suspiciously at him for a little while before heyielded. "Why, it's quite a miracle!" he then said. 

"Yes, that's what the doctor said. The point of the spindle hadacted as a kind of operation. But it might just as easily have takenthe other direction. Yes, we had the doctor to her three times; itwas no use being niggardly. " Kalle stood and tried to look important;he had stuck his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets. 

"It cost a lot of money, I suppose?"

"That's what I thought, too, and I wasn't very happy when I askedthe doctor how much it would be. Twenty-five krones, he said, andit didn't sound anything more than when any of us ask for a pieceof bread-and-dripping. 'Will the doctor be so kind as to wait a fewdays so that I can get the cow property sold?' I asked. 'What!' hesays, and glares at me over his spectacles. 'You don't mean to sellthe cow so as to pay me? You mustn't do that on any account; I'llwait till times are better. ' 'We come off easily, even if we get ridof the cow, ' I said. 'How so?' he asks, as we go out to the carriage--it was the farmer of Kaase Farm that was driving for me. So I toldhim that Maria and I had been thinking of selling everything so thatgrandmother might go over and be operated. He said nothing to that, but climbed up into the carriage; but while I was standing like this, buttoning up his foot-bag, he seizes me by the collar and says:'Do you know, you little bow-legged creature!' (Kalle imitated thedoctor's town speech), 'You're the best man I've ever met, and youdon't owe me a brass farthing! For that matter, it was you yourselfthat performed the operation. ' 'Then I ought almost to have had themoney, ' I said. Then he laughed and gave me a box on the ears withhis fur cap. He's a fine man, that doctor, and fearfully clever;they say that he has one kind of mixture that he cures all kindsof illness with. "

They were sitting in the herdsman's room upon the green chest, andLasse had brought out a little gin. "Drink, brother!" he said againand again. "It takes something to keep out this October drizzle. "

"Many thanks, but you must drink! But I was going to say, you shouldsee grandmother! She goes round peeping at everything with her oneeye; if it's only a button, she keeps on staring at it. So that'swhat that looks like, and that! She's forgotten what the things looklike, and when she sees a thing, she goes to it to feel it afterward--to find out what it is, she actually says. She would have nothingto do with us the first few days; when she didn't hear us talk orwalk, she thought we were strangers, even though she saw us therebefore her eyes. "

"And the little ones?" asked Lasse. 

"Thank you, Anna's is fat and well, but our own seems to have cometo a standstill. After all, it's the young pigs you ought to breedwith. By the bye"--Kalle took out his purse--"while we're at it, don't let me forget the ten krones I got from you for thechristenings. "

Lasse pushed it away. "Never mind that, " he said. "You may have alot to go through yet. How many mouths are there now? Fourteen orfifteen, I suppose?"

"Yes; but two take their mother's milk, like the parson's wife'schickens; so that's all saved. And if things became difficult, one'ssurely man enough to wring a few pence out of one's nose?" He seizedhis nose and gave it a rapid twist, and held out his hand. A foldedten-krone note lay in it. 

Lasse laughed at the trick, but would not hear of taking the money;and for a time it passed backward and forward between them. "Well, well!" said Kalle at last, keeping the note; "thank you very much, then! And good-bye, brother! I must be going. " Lasse went out withhim, and sent many greetings. 

"We shall come and look you up very soon, " he called out afterhis brother. 

When after a little while he returned to his room, the note layupon the bed. Kalle must have seen his opportunity to put it there, conjurer that he was. Lasse put it aside to give to Kalle's wife, when an occasion presented itself. 

Long before the time, Lasse was on the lookout for Pelle. He foundthe solitude wearisome, now that he was used to having the boy abouthim from morning till night. At last he came, out of breath withrunning, for he had longed to get home too. 

Nothing either terrible or remarkable had happened at school. Pellehad to give a circumstantial account, point by point, "Well, whatcan you do?" the master had asked, taking him by the ear--quitekindly, of course. "I can pull the mad bull to the water withoutFather Lasse helping at all, " Pelle had answered, and then the wholeclass had laughed. 

"Yes, yes, but can you read?"

No, Pelle could not do that--"or else I shouldn't have come here, "he was on the point of adding. "It was a good thing you didn'tanswer that, " said Lasse; "but what more then?" Well, then Pelle wasput upon the lowest bench, and the boy next him was set to teach himhis letters. 

"Do you know them, then?"

No, Pelle did not know them that day, but when a couple of weeks hadpassed, he knew most of them, and wrote them with chalk on the posts. He had not learned to write, but his hand could imitate anything hehad seen, and he drew the letters just as they stood in print in thespelling-book. 

Lasse went and looked at them during his work, and had them repeatedto him endlessly; but they would not stick properly. "What's thatone there?" he was perpetually asking. 

Pelle answered with a superior air: "That? Have you forgotten italready? I knew that after I'd only seen it once! That's M. "

"Yes, of course it is! I can't think where my head is to-day. M, yes--of course it's M! Now what can that be used for, eh?"

"It's the first letter in the word 'empty, ' of course!" said Pelleconsequentially. 

"Yes, of course! But you didn't find that out for yourself; themaster told you. "

"No, I found it out by myself. "

"Did you, now? Well, you've become clever--if only you don't becomeas clever as seven fools. "

Lasse was out of spirits; but very soon he gave in, and fell intowhole-hearted admiration of his son. And the instruction wascontinued while they worked. It was fortunate for Pelle that hisfather was so slow, for he did not get on very fast himself, whenonce he had mastered all that was capable of being picked upspontaneously by a quick intelligence. The boy who had to teachhim--Sloppy, he was called--was the dunce of the class and hadalways been bottom until now Pelle had come and taken his place. 

Two weeks of school had greatly changed Pelle's ideas on thissubject. On the first few days he arrived in a state of anxiousexpectation, and all his courage forsook him as he crossed thethreshold of the school. For the first time in his life he feltthat he was good for nothing. Trembling with awe, he opened hisperceptions to this new and unfamiliar thing that was to unveil forhim all the mysteries of the world, if only he kept his ears open;and he did so. But there was no awe-inspiring man, who looked atthem affectionately through gold-rimmed spectacles while he toldthem about the sun and the moon and all the wonders of the world. Up and down the middle passage walked a man in a dirty linen coatand with gray bristles projecting from his nostrils. As he walkedhe swung the cane and smoked his pipe; or he sat at the desk andread the newspaper. The children were noisy and restless, and whenthe noise broke out into open conflict, the man dashed down fromhis desk, and hit out indiscriminately with his cane. And Pellehimself, well he was coupled--for good, it appeared--to a dirty boy, covered with scrofulous sores, who pinched his arm every time heread his b-a--ba, b-e--be wrong. The only variation was an hour'sdaily examination in the tedious observations in the class-book, and the Saturday's uncouth hymn-repeating. 

For a time Pelle swallowed everything whole, and passed it onfaithfully to his father; but at last he tired of it. It was nothis nature to remain long passive to his surroundings, and one fineday he had thrown aside all injunctions and intentions, and divedinto the midst of the fun. 

After this he had less information to impart, but on the other handthere were the thousands of knavish tricks to tell about. And fatherLasse shook his head and comprehended nothing; but he could not helplaughing. 

XI

 "A safe stronghold our God is still, A trusty shield and wea--pon; He'll help us clear from all the ill That hath us now o'erta--ken. The ancient prince of hell Hath risen with purpose fell; Strong mail of craft and power He weareth in this hour; On earth is not his fel--low. "

The whole school sat swaying backward and forward in time to therhythm, grinding out hymns in endless succession. Fris, the master, was walking up and down the middle passage, smoking his pipe; he wastaking exercise after an hour's reading of the paper. He was usingthe cane to beat time with, now and then letting it descend upon theback of an offender, but always only at the end of a line--as a kindof note of admiration. Fris could not bear to have the rhythm broken. The children who did not know the hymn were carried along by thecrowd, some of them contenting themselves with moving their lips, while others made up words of their own. When the latter were toodreadful, their neighbors laughed, and then the cane descended. 

When one verse came to an end, Fris quickly started the next; forthe mill was hard to set in motion again when once it had come toa standstill. "With for--!" and the half-hundred children carriedit on--

 "With force of arms we nothing can, Full soon were we downrid--den;"

Then Fris had another breathing-space in which to enjoy his pipeand be lulled by this noise that spoke of great and industriousactivity. When things went as they were now going, his exasperationcalmed down for a time, and he could smile at his thoughts as hepaced up and down, and, old though he was, look at the bright sideof life. People in passing stopped to rejoice over the diligencedisplayed, and Fris beat more briskly with the cane, and felt along-forgotten ideal stirring within him; he had this whole flockof children to educate for life, he was engaged in creating thecoming generation. 

When the hymn came to an end, he got them, without a pause, turnedon to "Who puts his trust in God alone, " and from that again to"We all, we all have faith in God. " They had had them all threethe whole winter through, and now at last, after tremendous labor, he had brought them so far that they could say them more or lesstogether. 

The hymn-book was the business of Fris's life, and his forty yearsas parish-clerk had led to his knowing the whole of it by heart. In addition to this he had a natural gift. As a child Fris had beenintended for the ministry, and his studies as a young man were inaccordance with that intention. Bible words came with effect fromhis lips, and his prospects were of the best, when an ill-naturedbird came all the way from the Faroe Islands to bring trouble uponhim. Fris fell down two flights from spiritual guide to parish-clerkand child-whipper. The latter office he looked upon as almost tootransparent a punishment from Heaven, and arranged his school asa miniature clerical charge. 

The whole village bore traces of his work. There was not muchknowledge of reading and writing, but when it was a question ofhymns and Bible texts, these fishermen and little artisans werebad to beat. Fris took to himself the credit for the fairly goodcircumstances of the adults, and the receipt of proper wages by theyoung men. He followed each one of them with something of a father'seyes, and considered them all to be practically a success. And hewas on friendly terms with them once they had left school. Theywould come to the old bachelor and have a chat, and relieve theirminds of some difficulty or other. 

But it was always another matter with the confounded brood that satupon the school benches for the time being; it resisted learningwith might and main, and Fris prophesied it no good in the future. 

Fris hated the children. But he loved these squarely built hymns, which seemed to wear out the whole class, while he himself couldgive them without relaxing a muscle. And when it went as it wasdoing to-day, he could quite forget that there were such things aschildren, and give himself up to this endless procession, in whichcolumn after column filed past him, in the foot-fall of the rhythm. It was not hymns, either; it was a mighty march-past of the strongthings of life, in which there stretched, in one endless tone, allthat Fris himself had failed to attain. That was why he nodded sohappily, and why the loud tramp of feet rose around him like theacclamations of armies, an _Ave Caesar_. 

He was sitting with the third supplement of his newspaper beforehim, but was not reading; his eyes were closed, and his head movedgently to the rhythm. 

The children babbled on ceaselessly, almost without stopping forbreath; they were hypnotized by the monotonous flow of words. Theywere like the geese that had been given leave by the fox to say aprayer before they were eaten, and now went on praying and prayingforever and ever. When they came to the end of the three hymns, theybegan again by themselves. The mill kept getting louder, they keptthe time with their feet, and it was like the stroke of a mightypiston, a boom! Fris nodded with them, and a long tuft of hairflapped in his face; he fell into an ecstasy, and could not sitstill upon his chair. 

 "And were this world all devils o'er, And watching to devour--us, We lay it not to heart so sore; Not they can overpower us. "

It sounded like a stamping-mill; some were beating their slates uponthe tables, and others thumping with their elbows. Fris did not hearit; he heard only the mighty tramp of advancing hosts. 

 "And let the prince of ill Look grim as e'er he will, "--

Suddenly, at a preconcerted signal, the whole school stoppedsinging. Fris was brought to earth again with a shock. He openedhis eyes, and saw that he had once more allowed himself to be takenby surprise. "You little devils! You confounded brats!" he roared, diving into their midst with his cane. In a moment the whole schoolwas in a tumult, the boys fighting and the girls screaming. Frisbegan hitting about him. 

He tried to bring them back to the patter. "Who puts his trust inGod alone!" he shouted in a voice that drowned the clamor; but theydid not take it up--the little devils! Then he hit indiscriminately. He knew quite well that one was just as good as another, and was notparticular where the strokes fell. He took the long-haired ones bythe hair and dragged them to the table, and thrashed them until thecane began to split. The boys had been waiting for this; they hadthemselves rubbed onion into the cane that morning, and the mostdefiant of them had on several pairs of trousers for the occasion. 

When the cracked sound proclaimed that the cane was in process ofdisintegration, the whole school burst into deafening cheers. Frishad thrown up the game, and let them go on. He walked up and downthe middle passage like a suffering animal, his gall rising. "Youlittle devils!" he hissed; "You infernal brats!" And then, "Do sitstill, children!" This last was so ridiculously touching in themidst of all the rest, that it had to be imitated. 

Pelle sat farthest away, in the corner. He was fairly new at thissort of thing, but did his best. Suddenly he jumped on to the table, and danced there in his stockinged feet. Fris gazed at him sostrangely, Pelle thought; he was like Father Lasse when everythingwent wrong; and he slid down, ashamed. Nobody had noticed his action, however; it was far too ordinary. 

It was a deafening uproar, and now and then an ill-natured remarkwas hurled out of the seething tumult. Where they came from it wasdifficult to say; but every one of them hit Fris and made him cower. False steps made in his youth on the other side of the water fiftyyears ago, were brought up again here on the lips of these ignorantchildren, as well as some of his best actions, that had been sounselfish that the district put the very worst interpretation uponthem. And as if that were not enough--but hush! He was sobbing. 

"Sh--sh! Sh--sh!" It was Henry Bodker, the biggest boy in the school, and he was standing on a bench and sh--ing threateningly. The girlsadored him, and became quiet directly; but some of the boys wouldnot obey the order; but when Henry held his clenched fist up to oneeye, they too became quiet. 

Fris walked up and down the middle passage like a pardoned offender. He did not dare to raise his eyes, but they could all see that hewas crying. "It's a shame!" said a voice in an undertone. All eyeswere turned upon him, and there was perfect silence in the room. "Play-time!" cried a boy's voice in a tone of command: it wasNilen's. Fris nodded feebly, and they rushed out. 

Fris remained behind to collect himself. He walked up and down withhis hands behind his back, swallowing hard. He was going to send inhis resignation. Every time things went quite wrong, Fris sent inhis resignation, and when he had come to himself a little, he putit off until the spring examinations were over. He would not leavein this way, as a kind of failure. This very winter he had workedas he had never done before, in order that his resignation mighthave somewhat the effect of a bomb, and that they might really feelit as a loss when he had gone. When the examination was held, hewould take the hymn-book for repetition in chorus--right from thebeginning. Some of the children would quickly drop behind, but therewere some of them, into whom, in the course of time, he had hammeredmost of its contents. Long before they had run out, the clergymanwould lift his hand to stop them, and say: "That's enough, my dearclerk! That's enough!" and would thank him in a voice of emotion;while the school committee and the parents would whisper togetherin awed admiration. 

And then would be the time to resign!

The school lay on the outskirts of the fishing-village, and theplayground was the shore. When the boys were let out after a fewhours' lessons, they were like young cattle out for the first timeafter the long winter. They darted, like flitting swallows, in alldirections, threw themselves upon the fresh rampart of sea-wrackand beat one another about the ears with the salt wet weeds. Pellewas not fond of this game; the sharp weed stung, and sometimesthere were stones hanging to it, grown right in. 

But he dared not hold himself aloof, for that would attractattention at once. The thing was to join in it and yet not be init, to make himself little and big according to the requirementsof the moment, so as to be at one time unseen, and at another toexert a terrifying effect. He had his work cut out in twistingand turning, and slipping in and out. 

The girls always kept together in one corner of the playground, told tittle-tattle and ate their lunch, but the boys ran all overthe place like swallows in aimless flight. A big boy was standingcrouching close to the gymnastic apparatus, with his arm hiding hisface, and munching. They whirled about him excitedly, now one andnow another making the circle narrower and narrower. Peter Kofod--Howling Peter--looked as if the world were sailing under him; heclung to the climbing-pole and hid his face. When they came closeup to him, they kicked up behind with a roar, and the boy screamedwith terror, turned up his face and broke into a long-drawn howl. Afterward he was given all the food that the others could not eat. 

Howling Peter was always eating and always howling. He was a pauperchild and an orphan; he was big for his age, but had a strangelyblue and frozen look. His frightened eyes stood half out of his head, and beneath them the flesh was swollen and puffy with crying. Hestarted at the least sound, and there was always an expression offear on his face. The boys never really did him any harm, but theyscreamed and crouched down whenever they passed him--they could notresist it. Then he would scream too, and cower with fear. The girlswould sometimes run up and tap him on the back, and then he screamedin terror. Afterward all the children gave him some of their food. He ate it all, roared, and was as famished as ever. 

No one could understand what was wrong with him. Twice he had madean attempt to hang himself, and nobody could give any reason forit, not even he himself. And yet he was not altogether stupid. Lasse believed that he was a visionary, and saw things that otherscould not see, so that the very fact of living and drawing breathfrightened him. But however that might be, Pelle must on no accountdo anything to him, not for all the world. 

The crowd of boys had retired to the shore, and there, with littleNilen at their head, suddenly threw themselves upon Henry Bodker. He was knocked down and buried beneath the swarm, which lay in asprawling heap upon the top of him, pounding down with clenchedfists wherever there was an opening. But then a pair of fists beganto push upward, tchew, tchew, like steam punches, the boys rolledoff on all sides with their hands to their faces, and Henry Bodkeremerged from the heap, kicking at random. Nilen was still hanginglike a leech to the back of his neck, and Henry tore his blouse ingetting him thrown off. To Pelle he seemed to be tremendously big ashe stood there, only breathing a little quickly. And now the girlscame up, and fastened his blouse together with pins, and gave himsweets; and he, by way of thanking them, seized them by theirpigtails and tied them together, four or five of them, so that theycould not get away from one another. They stood still and bore itpatiently, only gazing at him with eyes of devotion. 

Pelle had ventured into the battle and had received a kick, but hebore no malice. If he had had a sweet, he, like the girls, wouldhave given it to Henry Bodker, and would have put up with ungentletreatment too. He worshipped him. But he measured himself by Nilen--the little bloodthirsty Nilen, who had no knowledge of fear, andattacked so recklessly that the others got out of his way! He wasalways in the thickest of the crowd, jumped right into the worst ofeverything, and came safely out of it all. Pelle examined himselfcritically to find points of resemblance, and found them--in hisdefence of Father Lasse the first summer, when he kicked a big boy, and in his relations with the mad bull, of which he was not in theleast afraid. But in other points it failed. He was afraid of thedark, and he could not stand a thrashing, while Nilen could takehis with his hands in his pockets. It was Pelle's first attempt atobtaining a general survey of himself. 

Fris had gone inland, probably to the church, so it would be aplaytime of some hours. The boys began to look about for somemore lasting ways of passing the time. The "bulls" went into theschoolroom, and began to play about on the tables and benches, butthe "blennies" kept to the shore. "Bulls" and "blennies" were theland and the sea in conflict; the division came naturally on everymore or less serious occasion, and sometimes gave rise to regularbattles. 

Pelle kept with the shore boys; Henry Bodker and Nilen were amongthem, and they were something new! They did not care about theland and animals, but the sea, of which he was afraid, was likea cradle to them. They played about on the water as they would intheir mother's parlor, and had much of its easy movement. They werequicker than Pelle, but not so enduring; and they had a freer manner, and made less of the spot to which they belonged. They spoke ofEngland in the most ordinary way and brought things to school thattheir fathers and brothers had brought home with them from the otherside of the world, from Africa and China. They spent nights on thesea on an open boat, and when they played truant it was always togo fishing. The cleverest of them had their own fishing-tackle andlittle flat-bottomed prams, that they had built themselves andcaulked with oakum. They fished on their own account and caughtpike, eels, and tench, which they sold to the wealthier people inthe district. 

Pelle thought he knew the stream thoroughly, but now he was broughtto see it from a new side. Here were boys who in March and April--inthe holidays--were up at three in the morning, wading barefoot atthe mouth of the stream to catch the pike and perch that went upinto the fresh water to spawn. And nobody told the boys to do it;they did it because they liked it!

They had strange pleasures! Now they were standing "before the sea"--in a long, jubilant row. They ran out with the receding wave tothe larger stones out in the water, and then stood on the stonesand jumped when the water came up again, like a flock of sea birds. The art consisted in keeping yourself dryshod, and yet it was thequickest boys who got wettest. There was of course a limit to thetime you could keep yourself hovering. When wave followed wave inquick succession, you had to come down in the middle of it, and thensometimes it went over your head. Or an unusually large wave wouldcome and catch all the legs as they were drawn up in the middle ofthe jump, when the whole row turned beautifully, and fell splashinto the water. Then with, a deafening noise they went up to theschoolroom to turn the "bulls" away from the stove. 

Farther along the shore, there were generally some boys sitting witha hammer and a large nail, boring holes in the stones there. Theywere sons of stone-masons from beyond the quarries. Pelle's cousinAnton was among them. When the holes were deep enough, powder waspressed into them, and the whole school was present at theexplosion. 

In the morning, when they were waiting for the master, the big boyswould stand up by the school wall with their hands in their pockets, discussing the amount of canvas and the home ports of vesselspassing far out at sea. Pelle listened to them open-mouthed. It wasalways the sea and what belonged to the sea that they talked about, and most of it he did not understand. All these boys wanted the samething when they were confirmed--to go to sea. But Pelle had hadenough of it when he crossed from Sweden; he could not understandthem. 

How carefully he had always shut his eyes and put his fingers inhis ears, so that his head should not get filled with water when hedived in the stream! But these boys swam down under the water likeproper fish, and from what they said he understood that they coulddive down in deep water and pick up stones from the bottom. 

"Can you see down there, then?" he asked, in wonder. 

"Yes, of course! How else would the fish be able to keep away fromthe nets? If it's only moonlight, they keep far outside, the wholeshoal!"

"And the water doesn't run into your head when you take your fingersout of your ears?"

"Take your fingers out of your ears?"

"Yes, to pick up the stone. "

A burst of scornful laughter greeted this remark, and they began toquestion him craftily; he was splendid--a regular country bumpkin!He had the funniest ideas about everything, and it very soon cameout that he had never bathed in the sea. He was afraid of the water--a "blue-bag"; the stream could not do away with that. 

After that he was called Blue-bag, notwithstanding that he one daytook the cattle-whip to school with him and showed them how he couldcut three-cornered holes in a pair of trousers with the long lash, hit a small stone so that it disappeared into the air, and makethose loud reports. It was all excellent, but the name stuck to himall the same; and all his little personality smarted under it. 

In the course of the winter, some strong young men came home to thevillage in blue clothes and white neck-cloths. They had laid up, asit was called, and some of them drew wages all through the winterwithout doing anything. They always came over to the school to seethe master; they came in the middle of lessons, but it did notmatter; Fris was joy personified. They generally brought somethingor other for him--a cigar of such fine quality that it was enclosedin glass, or some other remarkable thing. And they talked to Frisas they would to a comrade, told him what they had gone through, sothat the listening youngsters hugged themselves with delight, andquite unconcernedly smoked their clay pipes in the class--with thebowl turned nonchalantly downward without losing its tobacco. Theyhad been engaged as cook's boys and ordinary seamen, on the Spanishmain and the Mediterranean and many other wonderful places. One ofthem had ridden up a fire-spouting mountain on a donkey. And theybrought home with them lucifer matches that were as big, almost, as Pomeranian logs, and were to be struck on the teeth. 

The boys worshipped them and talked of nothing else; it was a greathonor to be seen in the company of such a man. For Pelle it was notto be thought of. 

And then it came about that the village was awaiting the return ofone such lad as this, and he did not come. And one day word camethat bark so-and-so had gone to the bottom with all on board. Itwas the winter storms, said the boys, spitting like grown men. Thebrothers and sisters were kept away from school for a week, and whenthey came back Pelle eyed them curiously: it must be strange to havea brother lying at the bottom of the sea, quite young! "Then youwon't want to go to sea?" he asked them. Oh, yes, they wanted to goto sea, too!

Another time Fris came back after an unusually long playtime in lowspirits. He kept on blowing his nose hard, and now and then driedhis eyes behind his spectacles. The boys nudged one another. Hecleared his throat loudly, but could not make himself heard, andthen beat a few strokes on his desk with the cane. 

"Have you heard, children?" he asked, when they had become moreor less quiet. 

"No! Yes! What?" they cried in chorus; and one boy said: "That thesun's fallen into the sea and set it on fire!"

The master quietly took up his hymn-book. "Shall we sing 'Howblessed are they'?" he said; and they knew that something must havehappened, and sang the hymn seriously with him. 

But at the fifth verse Fris stopped; he could not go on any longer. "Peter Funck is drowned!" he said, in a voice that broke on the lastword. A horrified whisper passed through the class, and they lookedat one another with uncomprehending eyes. Peter Funck was the mostactive boy in the village, the best swimmer, and the greatest scampthe school had ever had--and he was drowned!

Fris walked up and down, struggling to control himself. The childrendropped into softly whispered conversation about Peter Funck, andall their faces had grown old with gravity. "Where did it happen?"asked a big boy. 

Fris awoke with a sigh. He had been thinking about this boy, whohad shirked everything, and had then become the best sailor in thevillage; about all the thrashings he had given him, and the pleasanthours they had spent together on winter evenings when the lad washome from a voyage and had looked in to see his old master. Therehad been much to correct, and things of grave importance that Frishad had to patch up for the lad in all secrecy, so that they shouldnot affect his whole life, and--

"It was in the North Sea, " he said. "I think they'd been inEngland. "

"To Spain with dried fish, " said a boy. "And from there they wentto England with oranges, and were bringing a cargo of coal home. "

"Yes, I think that was it, " said Fris. "They were in the North Sea, and were surprised by a storm; and Peter had to go aloft. "

"Yes, for the _Trokkadej_ is such a crazy old hulk. As soonas there's a little wind, they have to go aloft and take in sail, "said another boy. 

"And he fell down, " Fris went on, "and struck the rail and fell intothe sea. There were the marks of his sea-boats on the rail. Theybraced--or whatever it's called--and managed to turn; but it tookthem half-an-hour to get up to the place. And just as they got there, he sank before their eyes. He had been struggling in the icy waterfor half-an-hour--with sea-boots and oilskins on--and yet--"

A long sigh passed through the class. "He was the best swimmer onthe whole shore!" said Henry. "He dived backward off the gunwale ofa bark that was lying in the roads here taking in water, and cameup on the other side of the vessel. He got ten rye rusks from thecaptain himself for it. "

"He must have suffered terribly, " said Fris. "It would almost havebeen better for him if he hadn't been able to swim. "

"That's what my father says!" said a little boy. "He can't swim, for he says it's better for a sailor not to be able to; it onlykeeps you in torture. "

"My father can't swim, either!" exclaimed another. "Nor mine, either!" said a third. "He could easily learn, but he won't. " Andthey went on in this way, holding up their hands. They could allswim themselves, but it appeared that hardly any of their fatherscould; they had a superstitious feeling against it. "Father says yououghtn't to tempt Providence if you're wrecked, " one boy added. 

"Why, but then you'd not be doing your best!" objected a littlefaltering voice. Fris turned quickly toward the corner where Pellesat blushing to the tips of his ears. 

"Look at that little man!" said Fris, impressed. "And I declare ifhe isn't right and all the rest of us wrong! God helps those thathelp themselves!"

"Perhaps, " said a voice. It was Henry Bodker's. 

"Well, well, I know He didn't help here, but still we ought alwaysto do what we can in all the circumstances of life. Peter did hisbest--and he was the cleverest boy I ever had. "

The children smiled at one another, remembering various things. Peter Funck had once gone so far as to wrestle with the masterhimself, but they had not the heart to bring this up. One of thebigger boys, however, said, half for the purpose of teasing: "Henever got any farther than the twenty-seventh hymn!"

"Didn't he, indeed?" snarled Fris. "Didn't he, indeed? And you thinkperhaps you're clever, do you? Let's see how far you've got, then!"And he took up the hymn-book with a trembling hand. He could notstand anything being said against boys that had left. 

The name Blue-bag continued to stick to Pelle, and nothing had everstung him so much; and there was no chance of his getting rid of itbefore the summer came, and that was a long way off. 

One day the fisher-boys ran out on to the breakwater in playtime. A boat had just come in through the pack-ice with a gruesome cargo--five frozen men, one of whom was dead and lay in the fire-enginehouse, while the four others had been taken into various cottages, where they were being rubbed with ice to draw the frost out of them. The farmer-boys were allowed no share in all this excitement, forthe fisher-boys, who went in and out and saw everything, drove themaway if they approached--and sold meagre information at extortionateprices. 

The boat had met a Finnish schooner drifting in the sea, coveredwith ice, and with frozen rudder. She was too heavily laden, so thatthe waves went right over her and froze; and the ice had made hersink still deeper. When she was found, her deck was just on a levelwith the water, ropes of the thickness of a finger had become asthick as an arm with ice, and the men who were lashed to the riggingwere shapeless masses of ice. They were like knights in armor withclosed visor when they were taken down, and their clothes had to behacked off their bodies. Three boats had gone out now to try andsave the vessel; there would be a large sum of money to divide ifthey were successful. 

Pelle was determined not to be left out of all this, even if he gothis shins kicked in, and so kept near and listened. The boys weretalking gravely and looked gloomy. What those men had put up with!And perhaps their hands or feet would mortify and have to be cut off. Each boy behaved as if he were bearing his share of their sufferings, and they talked in a manly way and in gruff voices. "Be off with you, bull!" they called to Pelle. They were not fond of Blue-bags for themoment. 

The tears came to Pelle's eyes, but he would not give in, andwandered away along the wharf. 

"Be off with you!" they shouted again, picking up stones in amenacing way. "Be off to the other bumpkins, will you!" They cameup and hit at him. "What are you standing there and staring intothe water for? You might turn giddy and fall in head first! Be offto the other yokels, will you! Blue-bag!"

Pelle turned literally giddy, with the strength of the determinationthat seized upon his little brain. "I'm no more a blue-bag than youare!" he said. "Why, you wouldn't even dare to jump into the water!"

"Just listen to him! He thinks you jump into the water for fun inthe middle of winter, and get cramp!"

Pelle just heard their exultant laughter as he sprang off thebreakwater, and the water, thick with ground-up ice, closed abovehis head. The top of his head appeared again, he made two or threestrokes with his arms like a dog, and sank. 

The boys ran in confusion up and down and shouted, and one of themgot hold of a boat-hook. Then Henry Bodker came running up, sprangin head first without stopping, and disappeared, while a piece ofice that he had struck with his forehead made ducks and drakes overthe water. Twice his head appeared above the ice-filled water, tosnatch a breath of air, and then he came up with Pelle. They got himhoisted up on to the breakwater, and Henry set to work to give hima good thrashing. 

Pelle had lost consciousness, but the thrashing had the effect ofbringing him to. He suddenly opened his eyes, was on his legs ina trice, and darted away like a sandpiper. 

"Run home!" the boys roared after him. "Run as hard as ever you can, or you'll be ill! Only tell your father you fell in!" And Pelle ran. He needed no persuasion. When he reached Stone Farm, his clotheswere frozen quite stiff, and his trousers could stand alone whenhe got out of them; but he himself was as warm as a toast. 

He would not lie to his father, but told him just what had happened. Lasse was angry, angrier than the boy had ever seen him before. 

Lasse knew how to treat a horse to keep it from catching cold, andbegan to rub Pelle's naked body with a wisp of straw, while the boylay on the bed, tossing about under the rough handling. His fathertook no notice of his groans, but scolded him. "You mad littledevil, to jump straight into the sea in the middle of winter like alovesick woman! You ought to have a whipping, that's what you oughtto have--a good sound whipping! But I'll let you off this time ifyou'll go to sleep and try to sweat so that we can get that nastysalt water out of your body. I wonder if it wouldn't be a good thingto bleed you. "

Pelle did not want to be bled; he was very comfortable lying there, now that he had been sick. But his thoughts were very serious. "Supposing I'd been drowned!" he said solemnly. 

"If you had, I'd have thrashed you to within an inch of your life, "said Lasse angrily. 

Pelle laughed. 

"Oh, you may laugh, you word-catcher!" snapped Lasse. "But it'sno joke being father to a little ne'er-do-weel of a cub like you!"Saying which he went angrily out into the stable. He kept onlistening, however, and coming up to peep in and see whether feveror any other devilry had come of it. 

But Pelle slept quietly with his head under the quilt, and dreamedthat he was no less a person than Henry Bodker. 

 * * * * *

Pelle did not learn to read much that winter, but he learned twentyand odd hymns by heart only by using his ears, and he got the nameBlue-bag, as applied to himself, completely banished. He had gainedground, and strengthened his position by several bold strokes; andthe school began to take account of him as a brave boy. And Henry, who as a rule took no notice of anybody, took him several timesunder his wing. 

Now and then he had a bad conscience, especially when his fatherin his newly-awakened thirst for knowledge, came to him for thesolution of some problem or other, and he was at a loss for ananswer. 

"But it's you who ought to have the learning, " Lasse would then sayreproachfully. 

As the winter drew to an end, and the examination approached, Pellebecame nervous. Many uncomfortable reports were current of theseverity of the examination among the boys--of putting into lowerclasses and complete dismissal from the school. 

Pelle had the misfortune not to be heard independently in a singlehymn. He had to give an account of the Fall. The theft of the applewas easy to get through, but the curse--! "And God said unto theserpent: Upon thy belly shalt thou go, upon thy belly shalt thou go, upon thy belly shalt thou go!" He could get no further. 

"Does it still do that, then?" asked the clergyman kindly. 

"Yes--for it has no limbs. "

"And can you explain to me what a limb is?" The priest was knownto be the best examiner on the island; he could begin in a gutterand end in heaven, people said. 

"A limb is--is a hand. "

"Yes, that is one. But can't you tell me something thatdistinguishes all limbs from other parts of the body? A limbis--well?--a?--a part of the body that can move by itself, forinstance? Well!"

"The ears!" said Pelle, perhaps because his own were burning. 

"O-oh? Can you move your ears, then?"

"Yes. " By dint of great perseverance, Pelle had acquired that art inthe course of the previous summer, so as not to be outdone by Rud. 

"Then, upon my word, I should like to see it!" exclaimed theclergyman. 

So Pelle worked his ears industriously backward and forward, and thepriest and the school committee and the parents all laughed. Pellegot "excellent" in religion. 

"So it was your ears after all that saved you, " said Lasse, delighted. "Didn't I tell you to use your ears well? Highest marksin religion only for moving your ears! Why, I should think you mightbecome a parson if you liked!"

And he went on for a long time. But wasn't he the devil of a laddieto be able to answer like that!

XII

"Come, cubby, cubby, cubby! Come on, you silly little chicken, there's nothing to be afraid of!" Pelle was enticing his favoritecalf with a wisp of green corn; but it was not quite sure of himto-day, for it had had a beating for bad behavior. 

Pelle felt very much like a father whose child gives him sorrow andcompels him to use severe measures. And now this misunderstanding--that the calf would have nothing to do with him, although it wasfor its own good that he had beaten it! But there was no help for it, and as long as Pelle had them to mind, he intended to be obeyed. 

At last it let him come close up to it, so that he could stroke it. It stood still for a little and was sulky, but yielded at last, atethe green food and snuffed in his face by way of thanks. 

"Will you be good, then?" said Pelle, shaking it by its stumps ofhorns. "Will you, eh?" It tossed its head mischievously. "Very well, then you shan't carry my coat to-day. "

The strange thing about this calf was that the first day it was letout, it would not stir, and at last the boy left it behind for Lasseto take in again. But no sooner was it behind him than it followedof its own accord, with its forehead close to his back; and alwaysafter that it walked behind him when they went out and came home, and it carried his overcoat on its back when it looked as if therewould be rain. 

Pelle's years were few in number, but to his animals he was agrown man. Formerly he had only been able to make them respect himsufficiently to obey him at close quarters; but this year he couldhit a cow at a distance of a hundred paces with a stone, and thatgave him power over the animals at a distance, especially when hethought of calling out the animal's name as he hit it. In this waythey realized that the pain came from him, and learned to obey themere call. 

For punishment to be effectual, it must follow immediately upon themisdeed. There was therefore no longer any such thing as lying inwait for an animal that had offended, and coming up behind it whenlater on it was grazing peacefully. That only caused confusion. Torun an animal until it was tired out, hanging on to its tail andbeating it all round the meadow only to revenge one's self, was alsostupid; it made the whole flock restless and difficult to manage forthe rest of the day. Pelle weighed the end and the means againstone another; he learned to quench his thirst for revenge with goodpractical reasons. 

Pelle was a boy, and he was not an idle one. All day, from five inthe morning until nine at night, he was busy with something or other, often most useless things. For hours he practiced walking on hishands, turning a somersault, and jumping the stream; he was alwaysin motion. Hour after hour he would run unflaggingly round in acircle on the grass, like a tethered foal, leaning toward the centeras he ran, so that his hand could pluck the grass, kicking up behind, and neighing and snorting. He was pouring forth energy from morningtill night with open-handed profusion. 

But minding the cattle was _work_, and here he husbandedhis energy. Every step that could be saved here was like capitalacquired; and Pelle took careful notice of everything, and wasalways improving his methods. He learned that punishment workedbest when it only hung as a threat; for much beating made an animalcallous. He also learned to see when it was absolutely necessary tointerfere. If this could not be done in the very act, he controlledhimself and endeavored upon the strength of his experience to bringabout exactly the same situation once more, and then to be prepared. The little fellow, unknown to himself, was always engaged in addingcubits unto his stature. 

He had obtained good results. The driving out and home again nolonger gave him any difficulty; he had succeeded for a whole weekin driving the flock along a narrow field road, with growing cornon both sides, without their having bitten off so much as a blade. And there was the still greater task of keeping them under controlon a hot, close day--to hedge them in in full gallop, so that theystood in the middle of the meadow stamping on the ground withuplifted tails, in fear of the gad-flies. If he wanted to, he couldmake them tear home to the stable in wild flight, with their tailsin the air, on the coldest October day, only by lying down in thegrass and imitating the hum of gad-flies. But that was a tremendoussecret, that even Father Lasse knew nothing about. 

The amusing thing about the buzzing was that calves that were outfor the first time, and had never made the acquaintance of a gad-fly, instantly set off running, with tail erect, when they heard itsangry buzz. 

Pelle had a remote ideal, which was to lie upon some elevated placeand direct the whole flock by the sole means of his voice, and neverneed to resort to punishment. Father Lasse never beat either, nomatter how wrong things went. 

There were some days--well, what did become of them? Before he hadany idea of it, it was time to drive home. Other days were longenough, but seemed to sing themselves away, in the ring of scythes, the lowing of cattle, and people's voices far away. Then the dayitself went singing over the ground, and Pelle had to stop every nowand then to listen. Hark! there was music! And he would run up on tothe sandbanks and gaze out over the sea; but it was not there, andinland there was no merrymaking that he knew of, and there were nobirds of passage flying through the air at this time of year. Buthark! there was music again! far away in the distance, just sucha sound of music as reaches the ear from so far off that one cannotdistinguish the melody, or say what instruments are playing. Couldit be the sun itself?

The song of light and life streamed through him, as though he werea fountain; and he would go about in a dreamy half-consciousness ofmelody and happiness. 

When the rain poured down, he hung his coat over a briar and laysheltered beneath it, carving or drawing with a lead button onpaper--horses, and bulls lying down, but more often ships, shipsthat sailed across the sea upon their own soft melody, far away toforeign lands, to Negroland and China, for rare things. And when hewas quite in the mood, he would bring out a broken knife and a pieceof shale from a secret hiding-place, and set to work. There was apicture scratched on the stone, and he was now busy carving it inrelief. He had worked at it on and off all through the summer, andnow it was beginning to stand out. It was a bark in full sail, sailing over rippling water to Spain--yes, it was going to Spain, for grapes and oranges, and all the other delightful things thatPelle had never tasted yet. 

On rainy days it was a difficult matter to keep count of the time, and required the utmost exertion. On other days it was easy enough, and Pelle could tell it best by the feeling. At certain times of theday there were signs at home on the farm that told him the time, andthe cattle gave him other hours by their habits. At nine the firstone lay down to chew the morning cud, and then all gradually laydown one by one; and there was always a moment at about ten whenthey all lay chewing. At eleven the last of them were upon theirlegs again. It was the same in the afternoon between three and five. 

Midday was easy to determine when the sun was shining. Pelle couldalways feel it when it turned in its path. And there were a hundredother things in nature that gave him a connection with the timesof day, such as the habits of the birds, and something about thefir-trees, and much besides that he could not lay his finger uponand say it was there, because it was only a feeling. The time todrive home was given by the cattle themselves. When it drew near, they grazed slowly around until their heads pointed in the directionof the farm; and there was a visible tension in their bodies, ahomeward yearning. 

 * * * * *

Rud had not shown himself all the week, and no sooner had hecome today than Pelle had to give him a blowing-up for somedeceitfulness. Then he ran home, and Pelle lay down at the edge ofthe fir-plantation, on his face with the soles of his feet in theair, and sang. All round him there were marks of his knife on thetree-stems. On the earliest ships you saw the keel, the deck wasperpendicular to the body. Those had been carved the first summer. There was also a collection of tiny fields here on the edge of thestream, properly ploughed, harrowed, and sown, each field about twofeet square. 

Pelle was resting now after the exertion with Rud, by making theair rock with his jubilant bawling. Up at the farm a man came outand went along the high-road with a bundle under his arm. It wasErik, who had to appear in court in answer to a summons for fighting. Then the farmer drove out at a good pace toward the town, so he wasevidently off on the spree. Why couldn't the man have driven withhim, as they were both going the same way? How quickly he drove, although she never followed him now. She consoled herself at homeinstead! Could it be true that he had spent five hundred krones indrinking and amusement in one evening?

 "The war is raging, the red blood streams, Among the mountains ring shouts and screams! The Turk advances with cruel rage, And sparing neither youth nor age. They go--"

"Ho!" Pelle sprang to his feet and gazed up over the clover field. The dairy cows up there for the last quarter of an hour had beenlooking up at the farm every other moment, and now Aspasia lowed, so his father must soon be coming out to move them. There he came, waddling round the corner of the farm. It was not far to the lowestof the cows, so when his father was there, Pelle could seize theopportunity just to run across and say good-day to him. 

He brought his animals nearer together and drove them slowly overto the other fence and up the fields. Lasse had moved the upperhalf, and was now crossing over diagonally to the bull, which stooda little apart from the others. The bull was growling and kickingup the earth; its tongue hung out at one side of its mouth, and ittossed its head quickly; it was angry. Then it advanced with shortsteps and all kinds of antics; and how it stamped! Pelle felt adesire to kick it on the nose as he had often done before; it hadno business to threaten Lasse, even if it meant nothing by it. 

Father Lasse took no notice of it, either. He stood hammering awayat the big tether-peg, to loosen it. "Good-day!" shouted Pelle. Lasse turned his head and nodded, then bent down and hammered thepeg into the ground. The bull was just behind him, stamping quickly, with open mouth and tongue hanging out; it looked as if it werevomiting, and the sound it made answered exactly to that. Pellelaughed as he slackened his pace. He was close by. 

But suddenly Father Lasse turned a somersault, fell, and was in theair again, and then fell a little way off. Again the bull was aboutto toss him, but Pelle was at its head. He was not wearing woodenshoes, but he kicked it with his bare feet until he was giddy. Thebull knew him and tried to go round him, but Pelle sprang at itshead, shouting and kicking and almost beside himself, seized it bythe horns. But it put him gently on one side and went forward towardLasse, blowing along the ground so that the grass waved. 

It took hold of him by the blouse and shook him a little, and thentried to get both his horns under him to send him up into the air;but Pelle was on his feet again, and as quick as lightning had drawnhis knife and plunged it in between the bull's hind legs. The bulluttered a short roar, turned Lasse over on one side, and dashedoff over the fields at a gallop, tossing its head as it ran, andbellowing. Down by the stream it began to tear up the bank, fillingthe air with earth and grass. 

Lasse lay groaning with his eyes closed, and Pelle stood pullingin vain at his arm to help him up, crying: "Father, little FatherLasse!" At last Lasse sat up. 

"Who's that singing?" he asked. "Oh, it's you, is it, laddie? Andyou're crying! Has any one done anything to you? Ah, yes, of course, it was the bull! It was just going to play fandango with me. Butwhat did you do to it, that the devil took it so quickly? You savedyour father's life, little though you are. Oh, hang it! I think I'mgoing to be sick! Ah me!" he went on, when the sickness was past, as he wiped the perspiration from his forehead. "If only I couldhave had a dram. Oh, yes, he knew me, the fellow, or I shouldn'thave got off so easily. He only wanted to play with me a little, you know. He was a wee bit spiteful because I drove him away froma cow this morning; I'd noticed that. But who'd have thought he'dhave turned on me? He wouldn't have done so, either, if I hadn'tbeen so silly as to wear somebody else's clothes. This is Mons'sblouse; I borrowed it of him while I washed my own. And Mr. Bulldidn't like the strange smell about me. Well, we'll see what Mons'llsay to this here slit. I'm afraid he won't be best pleased. "

Lasse talked on for a good while until he tried to rise, andstood up with Pelle's assistance. As he stood leaning on the boy'sshoulder, he swayed backward and forward. "I should almost have saidI was drunk, if it hadn't been for the pains!" he said, laughingfeebly. "Well, well, I suppose I must thank God for you, laddie. You always gladden my heart, and now you've saved my life, too. "

Lasse then stumbled homeward, and Pelle moved the rest of the cowson the road down to join his own. He was both proud and affected, but most proud. He had saved Father Lasse's life, and from the big, angry bull that no one else on the farm dared have anything to dowith. The next time Henry Bodker came out to see him, he should hearall about it. 

He was a little vexed with himself for having drawn his knife. Everyone here looked down upon that, and said it was Swedish. He wouldn'thave needed to do it either if there'd been time, or if only he hadhad on his wooden shoes to kick the bull in the eyes with. He hadvery often gone at it with the toes of his wooden shoes, when it hadto be driven into its stall again after a covering; and it alwaystook good care not to do anything to him. Perhaps he would put hisfinger in its eye and make it blind, or take it by the horns andtwist its head round, like the man in the story, until its neck waswrung. 

Pelle grew and swelled up until he overshadowed everything. Therewas no limit to his strength while he ran about bringing his animalstogether again. He passed like a storm over everything, tossedstrong Erik and the bailiff about, and lifted--yes, lifted thewhole of Stone Farm merely by putting his hand under the beam. It was quite a fit of berserker rage!

In the very middle of it all, it occurred to him how awkward itwould be if the bailiff got to know that the bull was loose. Itmight mean a thrashing both for him and Lasse. He must go and lookfor it; and for safety's sake he took his long whip with him andput on his wooden shoes. 

The bull had made a terrible mess down on the bank of the stream, and had ploughed up a good piece of the meadow. It had left bloodytraces along the bed of the stream and across the fields. Pellefollowed these out toward the headland, where he found the bull. The huge animal had gone right in under the bushes, and was standinglicking its wound. When it heard Pelle's voice, it came out. "Turnround!" he cried, flicking its nose with the whip. It put its headto the ground, bellowed, and moved heavily backward. Pelle continuedflicking it on the nose while he advanced step by step, shoutingdeterminedly: "Turn round! Will you turn round!" At last it turnedand set off at a run, Pelle seizing the tether-peg and runningafter. He kept it going with the whip, so that it should have notime for evil thoughts. 

When this was accomplished, he was ready to drop with fatigue, andlay crouched up at the edge of the fir-plantation, thinking sadly ofFather Lasse, who must be going about up there ill and with nobodyto give him a helping hand with his work. At last the situationbecame unbearable: he had to go home!

_Zzzz! Zzzz!_ Lying flat on the ground, Pelle crept over thegrass, imitating the maddening buzz of the gad-fly. He forced thesound out between his teeth, rising and falling, as if it wereflying hither and thither over the grass. The cattle stopped grazingand stood perfectly still with attentive ears. Then they began togrow nervous, kicking up their legs under their bodies, turningtheir heads to one side in little curves, and starting; and thenup went their tails. He made the sound more persistently angry, andthe whole flock, infecting one another, turned and began to stampround in wild panic. Two calves broke out of the tumult, and made abee-line for the farm, and the whole flock followed, over stock andstone. All Pelle had to do now was to run after them, making plentyof fuss, and craftily keep the buzzing going, so that the moodshould last till they reached home. 

The bailiff himself came running to open the gate into theenclosure, and helped to get the animals in. Pelle expected a boxon the ears, and stood still; but the bailiff only looked at himwith a peculiar smile, and said: "They're beginning to get the upperhand of you, I think. Well, well, " he went on, "it's all right aslong as you can manage the bull!" He was making fun of him, andPelle blushed up to the roots of his hair. 

Father Lasse had crept into bed. "What a good thing you came!" hesaid. "I was just lying here and wondering how I was going to getthe cows moved. I can scarcely move at all, much less get up. "

It was a week before Lasse was on his feet again, and during thattime the field-cattle remained in the enclosure, and Pelle stayedat home and did his father's work. He had his meals with the others, and slept his midday sleep in the barn as they did. 

One day, in the middle of the day, the Sow came into the yard, drunk. She took her stand in the upper yard, where she was forbidden to go, and stood there calling for Kongstrup. The farmer was at home, butdid not show himself, and not a soul was to be seen behind the highwindows. "Kongstrup, Kongstrup! Come here for a little!" she called, with her eyes on the pavement, for she could not lift her head. Thebailiff was not at home, and the men remained in hiding in the barn, hoping to see some fun. "I say, Kongstrup, come out a moment! I wantto speak to you!" said the Sow indistinctly--and then went up thesteps and tried to open the door. She hammered upon it a few times, and stood talking with her face close to the door; and when nobodycame, she reeled down the steps and went away talking to herself andnot looking round. 

A little while after the sound of weeping began up there, and justas the men were going out to the fields, the farmer came rushing outand gave orders that the horse should be harnessed to the chaise. While it was being done, he walked about nervously, and then set offat full speed. As he turned the corner of the house, a window openedand a voice called to him imploringly: "Kongstrup, Kongstrup!" Buthe drove quickly on, the window closed, and the weeping beganafresh. 

In the afternoon Pelle was busying himself about the lower yard whenKarna came to him and told him to go up to mistress. Pelle went uphesitatingly. He was not sure of her and all the men were out in thefields. 

Fru Kongstrup lay upon the sofa in her husband's study, which shealways occupied, day or night, when her husband was out. She hada wet towel over her forehead, and her whole face was red withweeping. 

"Come here!" she said, in a low voice. "You aren't afraid of me, are you?"

Pelle had to go up to her and sit on the chair beside her. He didnot know what to do with his eyes; and his nose began to run withthe excitement, and he had no pocket-handkerchief. 

"Are you afraid of me?" she asked again, and a bitter smile crossedher lips. 

He had to look at her to show that he was not afraid, and to tellthe truth, she was not like a witch at all, but only like a humanbeing who cried and was unhappy. 

"Come here!" she said, and she wiped his nose with her own finehandkerchief, and stroked his hair. "You haven't even a mother, poor little thing!" And she smoothed down his clumsily mendedblouse. 

"It's three years now since Mother Bengta died, and she's lying inthe west corner of the churchyard. "

"Do you miss her very much?"

"Oh, well, Father Lasse mends my clothes!"

"I'm sure she can't have been very good to you. "

"Oh, yes!" said Pelle, nodding earnestly. "But she was so fretful, she was always ailing; and it's better they should go when they getlike that. But now we're soon going to get married again--whenFather Lasse's found somebody that'll do. "

"And then I suppose you'll go away from here? I'm sure you aren'tcomfortable here, are you?"

Pelle had found his tongue, but now feared a trap, and became dumb. He only nodded. Nobody should come and accuse him afterward ofhaving complained. 

"No, you aren't comfortable, " she said, in a plaintive tone. "No oneis comfortable at Stone Farm. Everything turns to misfortune here. "

"It's an old curse, that!" said Pelle. 

"Do they say so? Yes, yes, I know they do! And they say of me thatI'm a devil--only because I love a single man--and cannot put upwith being trampled on. " She wept and pressed his hand against herquivering face. 

"I've got to go out and move the cows, " said Pelle, wriggling aboutuneasily in an endeavor to get away. 

"Now you're afraid of me again!" she said, and tried to smile. Itwas like a gleam of sunshine after rain. 

"No--only I've got to go out and move the cows. "

"There's still a whole hour before that. But why aren't you herdingto-day? Is your father ill?"

Then Pelle had to tell her about the bull. 

"You're a good boy!" said the mistress, patting his head. "If I hada son, I should like him to be like you. But now you shall have somejam, and then you must run to the shop for a bottle of black-currantrum, so that we can make a hot drink for your father. If you hurry, you can be back before moving-time. "

Lasse had his hot drink, even before the boy returned; and every daywhile he kept his bed he had something strengthening--although therewas no black-currant rum in it. 

During this time Pelle went up to the mistress nearly every day. Kongstrup had gone on business to Copenhagen. She was kind to himand gave him nice things to eat; and while he ate, she talkedwithout ceasing about Kongstrup, or asked him what people thoughtabout her. Pelle had to tell her, and then she was upset and beganto cry. There was no end to her talk about the farmer, but shecontradicted herself, and Pelle gave up trying to make anythingof it. Besides, the good things she gave him were quite enough forhim to think about. 

Down in their room he repeated everything word for word, and Lasselay and listened, and wondered at this little fellow who had the runof high places, and was in the mistress's confidence. Still he didnot quite like it. 

". .. She could scarcely stand, and had to hold on to the table whenshe was going to fetch me the biscuits, she was so ill. It was onlybecause he'd treated her badly, she said. Do you know she hates him, and would like to kill him, she says; and yet she says that he'sthe handsomest man in the world, and asked me if I've seen any onehandsomer in all Sweden. And then she cries as if she was mad. "

"Does she?" said Lasse thoughtfully. "I don't suppose she knows whatshe's saying, or else she says it for reasons of her own. But allthe same, it's not true that he beats her! She's telling a lie, I'msure. "

"And why should she lie?"

"Because she wants to do him harm, I suppose. But it's true he's afine man--and cares for everybody except just her; and that's themisfortune. I don't like your being so much up there; I'm so afraidyou may come to some harm. "

"How could I? She's so good, so very good. "

"How am I to know that? No, she isn't good--her eyes aren't good, at any rate. She's brought more than one person into misfortune bylooking at them. But there's nothing to be done about it; the poorman has to risk things. "

Lasse was silent, and stumbled about for a little while. Then hecame up to Pelle. "Now, see here! Here's a piece of steel I've found, and you must remember always to have it about you, especially whenyou go up _there_! And then--yes, then we must leave the restin God's hand. He's the only one who perhaps looks after poor littleboys. "

Lasse was up for a short while that day. He was getting on quickly, thank God, and in two days they might be back in their old waysagain. And next winter they must try to get away from it all!

On the last day that Pelle stayed at home, he went up to themistress as usual, and ran her errand for her. And that day he sawsomething unpleasant that made him glad that this was over. She tookher teeth, palate, and everything out of her mouth, and laid themon the table in front of her!

So she _was_ a witch!

XIII

Pelle was coming home with his young cattle. As he came near thefarm he issued his commands in a loud voice, so that his fathermight hear. "Hi! Spasianna! where are you going to? Dannebrog, youconfounded old ram, will you turn round!" But Lasse did not cometo open the gate of the enclosure. 

When he had got the animals in, he ran into the cow-stable. Hisfather was neither there nor in their room, and his Sunday woodenshoes and his woollen cap were gone. Then Pelle remembered that itwas Saturday, and that probably the old man had gone to the shopto fetch spirits for the men. 

Pelle went down into the servants' room to get his supper. The menhad come home late, and were still sitting at the table, which wascovered with spilt milk and potato-skins. They were engrossed ina wager; Erik undertook to eat twenty salt herrings with potatoesafter he had finished his meal. The stakes were a bottle of spirits, and the others were to peel the potatoes for him. 

Pelle got out his pocket-knife and peeled himself a pile ofpotatoes. He left the skin on the herring, but scraped it carefullyand cut off the head and tail; then he cut it in pieces and ate itwithout taking out the bones, with the potatoes and the sauce. Whilehe did so, he looked at Erik--the giant Erik, who was so strongand was not afraid of anything between heaven and earth. Erik hadchildren all over the place! Erik could put his finger into thebarrel of a gun, and hold the gun straight out at arm's length! Erikcould drink as much as three others!

And now Erik was sitting and eating twenty salt herrings after hishunger was satisfied. He took the herring by the head, drew it oncebetween his legs, and then ate it as it was; and he ate potatoesto them, quite as quickly as the others could peel them. In betweenwhiles he swore because the bailiff had refused him permission to goout that evening; there was going to be the devil to pay about that:he'd teach them to keep Erik at home when he wanted to go out!

Pelle quickly swallowed his herring and porridge, and set off againto run to meet his father; he was longing immensely to see him. Outat the pump the girls were busy scouring the milkpails and kitchenpans; and Gustav was standing in the lower yard with his arms onthe fence, talking to them. He was really watching Bodil, whose eyeswere always following the new pupil, who was strutting up and downand showing off his long boots with patent-leather tops. 

Pelle was stopped as he ran past, and set to pump water. The men nowcame up and went across to the barn, perhaps to try their strength. Since Erik had come, they always tried their strength in their freetime. There was nothing Pelle found so exciting as trials ofstrength, and he worked hard so as to get done and go over there. 

Gustav, who was generally the most eager, continued to stand andvent his ill-nature upon the pupil. 

"There must be money there!" said Bodil, thoughtfully. 

"Yes, you should try him; perhaps you might become a farmer's wife. The bailiff won't anyhow; and the farmer--well, you saw the Sow theother day; it must be nice to have that in prospect. "

"Who told you that the bailiff won't?" answered Bodil sharply. "Don't imagine that we need you to hold the candle for us! Littlechildren aren't allowed to see everything. "

Gustav turned red. "Oh, hold your jaw, you hussy!" he muttered, and sauntered down to the barn. 

 "Oh, goodness gracious, my poor old mother, Who's up on deck and can't stand!"

sang Mons over at the stable door, where he was standing hammeringat a cracked wooden shoe. Pelle and the girls were quarreling, andup in the attic the bailiff could be heard going about; he was busyputting pipes in order. Now and then a long-drawn sound came fromthe high house, like the distant howling of some animal, making thepeople shudder with dreariness. 

A man dressed in his best clothes, and with a bundle under his arm, slipped out of the door from the men's rooms, and crept along bythe building in the lower yard. It was Erik. 

"Hi, there! Where the devil are you going?" thundered a voice fromthe bailiff's window. The man ducked his head a little and pretendednot to hear. "Do you hear, you confounded Kabyle! _Erik_!" Thistime Erik turned and darted in at a barn-door. 

Directly after the bailiff came down and went across the yard. Inthe chaff-cutting barn the men were standing laughing at Erik's badluck. "He's a devil for keeping watch!" said Gustav. "You must beup early to get the better of _him_. "

"Oh, I'll manage to dish him!" said Erik. "I wasn't born yesterday. And if he doesn't mind his own business, we shall come to blows. "

There was a sudden silence as the bailiff's well-known step washeard upon the stone paving. Erik stole away. 

The form of the bailiff filled the doorway. "Who sent Lasse forgin?" he asked sternly. 

They looked at one another as if not understanding. "Is Lasse out?"asked Mons then, with the most innocent look in the world. "Ay, theold man's fond of spirits, " said Anders, in explanation. 

"Oh, yes; you're good comrades!" said the bailiff. "First you makethe old man go, and then you leave him in the lurch. You deservea thrashing, all of you. "

"No, we don't deserve a thrashing, and don't mean to submit toone either, " said the head man, going a step forward. "Let me tellyou--"

"Hold your tongue, man!" cried the bailiff, going close up to him, and Karl Johan drew back. 

"Where's Erik?"

"He must be in his room. "

The bailiff went in through the horse-stable, something in hiscarriage showing that he was not altogether unprepared for an attackfrom behind. Erik was in bed, with the quilt drawn up to his eyes. 

"What's the meaning of this? Are you ill?" asked the bailiff. 

"Yes, I think I've caught cold, I'm shivering so. " He tried to makehis teeth chatter. 

"It isn't the rot, I hope?" said the bailiff sympathetically. "Let'slook at you a little, poor fellow. " He whipped off the quilt. "Oho, so you're in bed with your best things on--and top-boots! It's yourgrave-clothes, perhaps? And I suppose you were going out to order apauper's grave for yourself, weren't you? It's time we got you putunderground, too; seems to me you're beginning to smell already!"He sniffed at him once or twice. 

But Erik sprang out of bed as if shot by a spring, and stood erectclose to him. "I'm not dead yet, and perhaps I don't smell any morethan some other people!" he said, his eyes flashing and lookingabout for a weapon. 

The bailiff felt his hot breath upon his face, and knew it would notdo to draw back. He planted his fist in the man's stomach, so thathe fell back upon the bed and gasped for breath; and then held himdown with a hand upon his chest. He was burning with a desire to domore, to drive his fist into the face of this rascal, who grumbledwhenever one's back was turned, and had to be driven to every littletask. Here was all the servant-worry that embittered his existence--dissatisfaction with the fare, cantankerousness in work, threatsof leaving when things were at their busiest--difficulties withoutend. Here was the slave of many years of worry and ignominy, and allhe wanted was one little pretext--a blow from this big fellow whonever used his strength for work, but only to take the lead in alldisturbances. 

But Erik lay quite still and looked at his enemy with watchful eye. "You may hit me, if you like. There is such a thing as a magistratein the country, " he said, with irritating calm. The bailiff'smuscles burned, but he was obliged to let the man go for fear ofbeing summoned. "Then remember another time not to be fractious!"he said, letting go his hold, "or I'll show you that there is amagistrate. "

"When Lasse comes, send him up to me with the gin!" he said tothe men as he passed through the barn. 

"The devil we will!" said Mons, in an undertone. 

Pelle had gone to meet his father. The old man had tasted thepurchase, and was in good spirits. "There were seven men in theboat, and they were all called Ole except one, and he was calledOle Olsen!" he said solemnly, when he saw the boy. "Yes, wasn't ita strange thing, Pelle, boy, that they should every one of them becalled Ole--except the one, of course; for his name was Ole Olsen. "Then he laughed, and nudged the boy mysteriously; and Pelle laughedtoo, for he liked to see his father in good spirits. 

The men came up to them, and took the bottles from the herdsman. "He's been tasting it!" said Anders, holding the bottle up to thelight. "Oh, the old drunkard! He's had a taste at the bottles. "

"No, the bottles must leak at the bottom!" said Lasse, whom the dramhad made quite bold. "For I've done nothing but just smell. You'vegot to make sure, you know, that you get the genuine thing and notjust water. "

They moved on down the enclosure, Gustav going in front and playingon his concertina. A kind of excited merriment reigned over theparty. First one and then another would leap into the air as theywent; they uttered short, shrill cries and disconnected oaths atrandom. The consciousness of the full bottles, Saturday evening withthe day of rest in prospect, and above all the row with the bailiff, had roused their tempers. 

They settled down below the cow-stable, in the grass close to thepond. The sun had long since gone down, but the evening sky wasbright, and cast a flaming light upon their faces turned westward;while the white farms inland looked dazzling in the twilight. 

Now the girls came sauntering over the grass, with their hands undertheir aprons, looking like silhouettes against the brilliant sky. They were humming a soft folk-song, and one by one sank on to thegrass beside the men; the evening twilight was in their hearts, andmade their figures and voices as soft as a caress. But the men'smood was not a gentle one, and they preferred the bottle. 

Gustav walked about extemporizing on his concertina. He was lookingfor a place to sit down, and at last threw himself into Karna's lap, and began to play a dance. Erik was the first upon his feet. He ledon account of his difference with the bailiff, and pulled Bengta upfrom the grass with a jerk. They danced a Swedish polka, and alwaysat a certain place in the melody, he tossed her up into the airwith a shout. She shrieked every time, and her heavy skirts stoodout round her like the tail of a turkey-cock, so that every onecould see how long it was till Sunday. 

In the middle of a whirl he let go of her, so that she stumbled overthe grass and fell. The bailiff's window was visible from where theysat, and a light patch had appeared at it. "He's staring! Lord, howhe's staring! I say, can you see this?" Erik called out, holding upa gin-bottle. Then, as he drank: "Your health! Old Nick's health!He smells, the pig! Bah!" The others laughed, and the face at thewindow disappeared. 

In between the dances they played, drank, and wrestled. Theiractions became more and more wild, they uttered sudden yells thatmade the girls scream, threw themselves flat upon the ground inthe middle of a dance, groaned as if they were dying, and sprangup again suddenly with wild gestures and kicked the legs of thosenearest to them. Once or twice the bailiff sent the pupil to tellthem to be quiet, but that only made the noise worse. "Tell him togo his own dog's errands!" Erik shouted after the pupil. 

Lasse nudged Pelle and they gradually drew farther and farther away. "We'd better go to bed now, " Lasse said, when they had slipped awayunnoticed. "One never knows what this may lead to. They all of themsee red; I should think they'll soon begin to dance the dance ofblood. Ah me, if I'd been young I wouldn't have stolen away likea thief; I'd have stayed and taken whatever might have come. Therewas a time when Lasse could put both hands on the ground and kickhis man in the face with the heels of his boots so that he went downlike a blade of grass; but that time's gone, and it's wisest to takecare of one's self. This may end in the police and much more, notto mention the bailiff. They've been irritating him all the summerwith that Erik at their head; but if once he gets downright angry, Erik may go home to his mother. "

Pelle wanted to stay up for a little and look at them. "If I creepalong behind the fence and lie down--oh, do let me, father!" hebegged. 

"Eh, what a silly idea! They might treat you badly if they got holdof you. They're in the very worst of moods. Well, you must take theconsequences, and for goodness' sake take care they don't see you!"

So Lasse went to bed, but Pelle crawled along on the ground behindthe fence until he came close up to them and could see everything. 

Gustav was still sitting on Karna's open lap and playing, and shewas holding him fast in her arms. But Anders had put his arm aroundBodil's waist. Gustav discovered it, and with an oath flung away hisconcertina, sending it rolling over the grass, and sprang up. Theothers threw themselves down in a circle on the grass, breathinghard. They expected something. 

Gustav was like a savage dancing a war-dance. His mouth was open andhis eyes bright and staring. He was the only man on the grass, andjumped up and down like a ball, hopped upon his heels, and kickedup his legs alternately to the height of his head, uttering a shrillcry with each kick. Then he shot up into the air, turning round ashe did so, and came down on one heel and went on turning round likea top, making himself smaller and smaller as he turned, and thenexploded in a leap and landed in the lap of Bodil, who threw herarms about him in delight. 

In an instant Anders had both hands on his shoulders from behind, set his feet against his back, and sent him rolling over the grass. It all happened without a pause, and Gustav himself gave impetus tohis course, rolling along in jolts like an uneven ball. But suddenlyhe stopped and rose to his feet with a bound, stared straight infront of him, turned round with a jerk, and moved slowly towardAnders. Anders rose quickly, pushed his cap on one side, clickedwith his tongue, and advanced. Bodil spread herself out morecomfortably on the ground, and looked proudly round the circle, eagerly noting the envy of the others. 

The two antagonists stood face to face, feeling their way to a goodgrasp. They stroked one another affectionately, pinched one anotherin the side, and made little jesting remarks. 

"My goodness me, how fat you are, brother!" This was Anders. 

"And what breasts you've got! You might quite well be a woman, "answered Gustav, feeling Anders' chest. "Eeh, how soft you are!"Scorn gleamed in their faces, but their eyes followed every movementof their opponent. Each of them expected a sudden attack from theother. 

The others lay stretched around them on the grass, and called outimpatiently: "Have done with that and look sharp about it!"

The two men continued to stand and play as if they were afraid toreally set to, or were spinning the thing out for its still greaterenjoyment. But suddenly Gustav had seized Anders by the collar, thrown himself backward and flung Anders over his head. It was doneso quickly that Anders got no hold of Gustav; but in swinging roundhe got a firm grasp of Gustav's hair, and they both fell on theirbacks with their heads together and their bodies stretched inopposite directions. 

Anders had fallen heavily, and lay half unconscious, but withoutloosening his hold on Gustav's hair. Gustav twisted round and triedto get upon his feet, but could not free his head. Then he wriggledback into this position again as quickly as a cat, turned a backwardsomersault over his antagonist, and fell down upon him with his facetoward the other's. Anders tried to raise his feet to receive him, but was too late. 

Anders threw himself about in violent jerks, lay still and strainedagain with sudden strength to turn Gustav off, but Gustav held on. He let himself fall heavily upon his adversary, and sticking out hislegs and arms to support him on the ground, raised himself suddenlyand sat down again, catching Anders in the wind. All the time thethoughts of both were directed toward getting out their knives, and Anders, who had now fully recovered his senses, remembereddistinctly that he had not got his. "Ah!" he said aloud. "Whata fool I am!"

"You're whining, are you?" said Gustav, bending his face him. "Doyou want to ask for mercy?"

At that moment Anders felt Gustav's knife pressing against his thigh, and in an instant had his hand down there and wrenched it free. Gustav tried to take it from him, but gave up the attempt for fearof being thrown off. He then confined himself to taking possessionof one of Anders' hands, so that he could not open the knife, andbegan sitting upon him in the region of his stomach. 

Anders lay in half surrender, and bore the blows without tryingto defend himself, only gasping at each one. With his left hand hewas working eagerly to get the knife opened against the ground, andsuddenly plunged it into Gustav just as the latter had risen to lethimself fall heavily upon his opponent's body. 

Gustav seized Anders by the wrist, his face distorted. "What thedevil are you up to now, you swine?" he said, spitting down intoAnders' face. "He's trying to sneak out by the back door!" he said, looking round the circle with a face wrinkled like that of a youngbull. 

They fought desperately for the knife, using hands and teeth andhead; and when Gustav found that he could not get possession ofthe weapon, he set to work so to guide Anders' hand that he shouldplunge it into his own body. He succeeded, but the blow was notstraight, and the blade closed upon Anders' fingers, making himthrow the knife from him with an oath. 

Meanwhile Erik was growing angry at no longer being the hero of theevening. "Will you soon be finished, you two cockerels, or must Ihave a bite too?" he said, trying to separate them. They took firmhold of one another, but then Erik grew angry, and did something forwhich he was ever after renowned. He took hold of them and set themboth upon their feet. 

Gustav looked as if he were going to throw himself into the battleagain, and a sullen expression overspread his face; but then hebegan to sway like a tree chopped at the roots, and sank to theground. Bodil was the first to come to his assistance. With a cryshe ran to him and threw her arms about him. 

He was carried in and laid upon his bed, Karl Johan poured spiritinto the deep cut to clean it, and held it together while Bodilbasted it with needle and thread from one of the men's lockers. Then they dispersed, in pairs, as friendship permitted, Bodil, however, remaining with Gustav. She was true to him after all. 

 * * * * *

Thus the summer passed, in continued war and friction with thebailiff, to whom, however, they dared do nothing when it came tothe point. Then the disease struck inward, and they set upon oneanother. "It must come out somewhere, " said Lasse, who did not likethis state of things, and vowed he would leave as soon as anythingelse offered, even if they had to run away from wages and clothesand everything. 

"They're discontented with their wages, their working-hours are toolong, and the food isn't good enough; they pitch it about and wasteit until it makes one ill to see them, for anyhow it's God's gift, even if it might be better. And Erik's at the bottom of it all! He'sforever boasting and bragging and stirring up the others the wholeday long. But as soon as the bailiff is over him, he daren't doanything any more than the others; so they all creep into theirholes. Father Lasse is not such a cowardly wind-bag as any of them, old though he is. 

"I suppose a good conscience is the best support. If you have it andhave done your duty, you can look both the bailiff and the farmer--and God the Father, too--in the face. For you must always remember, laddie, not to set yourself up against those that are placed overyou. Some of us have to be servants and others masters; how wouldeverything go on if we who work didn't do our duty? You can't expectthe gentlefolk to scrape up the dung in the cow-stable. "

All this Lasse expounded after they had gone to bed, but Pelle hadsomething better to do than to listen to it. He was sound asleepand dreaming that he was Erik himself, and was thrashing the bailiffwith a big stick. 

XIV

In Pelle's time, pickled herring was the Bronholmer's most importantarticle of food. It was the regular breakfast dish in all classesof society, and in the lower classes it predominated at the supper-table too--and sometimes appeared at dinner in a slightly alteredform. "It's a bad place for food, " people would say derisively ofsuch-and-such a farm. "You only get herring there twenty-one timesa week. "

When the elder was in flower, well-regulated people brought outtheir salt-boxes, according to old custom, and began to look outto sea; the herring is fattest then. From the sloping land, whichnearly everywhere has a glimpse of the sea, people gazed out in theearly summer mornings for the homeward-coming boats. The weather andthe way the boats lay in the water were omens regarding the winterfood. Then the report would come wandering up over the island, oflarge hauls and good bargains. The farmers drove to the town orthe fishing-village with their largest wagons, and the herring-manworked his way up through the country from cottage to cottage withhis horse, which was such a wretched animal that any one would havebeen legally justified in putting a bullet through its head. 

In the morning, when Pelle opened the stable doors to the field, the mist lay in every hollow like a pale gray lake, and on the highland, where the smoke rose briskly from houses and farms, he saw menand women coming round the gable-ends, half-dressed, or in shirt orchemise only, gazing out to sea. He himself ran round the out-housesand peered out toward the sea which lay as white as silver and tookits colors from the day. The red sails were hanging motionless, andlooked like splashes of blood in the brightness of day; the boatslay deep in the water, and were slowly making their way homewardin response to the beat of the oars, dragging themselves along likecows that are near their time for bearing. 

But all this had nothing to do with him and his. Stone Farm, likethe poor of the parish, did not buy its herring until after theautumn, when it was as dry as sticks and cost almost nothing. Atthat time of year, herring was generally plentiful, and was soldfor from twopence to twopence-halfpenny the fourscore as long asthe demand continued. After that it was sold by the cartload asfood for the pigs, or went on to the dungheap. 

One Sunday morning late in the autumn, a messenger came runningfrom the town to Stone Farm to say that now herring was to be had. The bailiff came down into the servants' room while they were atbreakfast, and gave orders that all the working teams were to beharnessed. "Then you'll have to come too!" said Karl Johan to thetwo quarry drivers, who were married and lived up near the quarry, but came down for meals. 

"No, our horses shan't come out of the stable for that!" saidthe drivers. "They and we drive only stone and nothing else. " Theysat for a little while and indulged in sarcasms at the expense ofcertain people who had not even Sunday at their own disposal, andone of them, as he stretched himself in a particularly irritatingway, said: "Well, I think I'll go home and have a nap. It's niceto be one's own master once a week, at any rate. " So they went hometo wife and children, and kept Sunday holiday. 

For a little while the men went about complaining; that was theregular thing. In itself they had no objection to make to theexpedition, for it would naturally be something of a festivity. There were taverns enough in the town, and they would take care toarrange about that herring so that they did not get home much beforeevening. If the worst came to the worst, Erik could damage his cartin driving, and then they would be obliged to stay in town while itwas being mended. 

They stood out in the stable, and turned their purses inside out--big, solid, leather purses with steel locks that could only beopened by pressure on a secret mechanism; but they were empty. 

"The deuce!" said Mons, peering disappointedly into his purse. "Not so much as the smell of a one-ore! There must be a leak!" Heexamined the seams, held it close up to his eyes, and at last puthis ear to it. "Upon my word, I seem to hear a two-krone talkingto itself. It must be witchcraft!" He sighed and put his purseinto his pocket. 

"You, you poor devil!" said Anders. "Have you ever spoken to atwo-krone? No, I'm the man for you!" He hauled out a large purse. "I've still got the ten-krone that the bailiff cheated me out ofon May Day, but I haven't the heart to use it; I'm going to keepit until I grow old. " He put his hand into the empty purse andpretended to take something out and show it. The others laughedand joked, and all were in good spirits with the thought of thetrip to town. 

"But Erik's sure to have some money at the bottom of his chest!"said one. "He works for good wages and has a rich aunt down below. "

"No, indeed!" whined Erik. "Why, I have to pay for half a score ofyoung brats who can't father themselves upon any one else. But KarlJohan must get it, or what's the good of being head man?"

"That's no use, " said Karl Johan doubtfully. "If I ask the bailifffor an advance now when we're going to town, he'll say 'no' straightout. I wonder whether the girls haven't wages lying by. "

They were just coming up from the cow-stable with their milk-pails. 

"I say, girls, " Erik called out to them. "Can't one of you lend usten krones? She shall have twins for it next Easter; the sow farrowsthen anyhow. "

"You're a nice one to make promises!" said Bengta, standing still, and they all set down their milk-pails and talked it over. "I wonderwhether Bodil hasn't?" said Karna. "No, " answered Maria, "for shesent the ten krones she had by her to her mother the other day. "

Mons dashed his cap to the floor and gave a leap. "I'll go up tothe Old Gentleman himself, " he said. 

"Then you'll come head first down the stairs, you may be sure!"

"The deuce I will, with my old mother lying seriously ill in thetown, without a copper to pay for doctor or medicine! I'm as good achild as Bodil, I hope. " He turned and went toward the stone steps, and the others stood and watched him from the stable-door, until thebailiff came and they had to busy themselves with the carts. Gustavwalked about in his Sunday clothes with a bundle under his arm, andlooked on. 

"Why don't you get to work?" asked the bailiff. "Get your horsesput in. "

"You said yourself I might be free to-day, " said Gustav, makinga grimace. He was going out with Bodil. 

"Ah, so I did! But that'll be one cart less. You must have a holidayanother day instead. "

"I can't do that. "

"What the dee--And why not, may I ask?"

"Well, because you gave me a holiday to-day. "

"Yes; but, confound it, man, when I now tell you you can takeanother day instead!"

"No, I can't do that. "

"But why not, man? Is there anything pressing you want to do?"

"No, but I have been given a holiday to-day. " It looked as if Gustavwere grinning slyly, but it was only that he was turning the quidin his mouth. The bailiff stamped with anger. 

"But I can go altogether if you don't care to see me, " said Gustavgently. 

The bailiff did not hear, but turned quickly. Experience had taughthim to be deaf to that kind of offer in the busy season. He lookedup at his window as if he had suddenly thought of something, andsprang up the stairs. They could manage him when they touched uponthat theme, but his turn came in the winter, and then they had tokeep silence and put up with things, so as to keep a roof over theirheads during the slack time. 

Gustav went on strutting about with his bundle, without putting hishand to anything. The others laughed at him encouragingly. 

The bailiff came down again and went up to him. "Then put in thehorses before you go, " he said shortly, "and I'll drive yours. "

An angry growl passed from man to man. "We're to have the dog withus!" they said in undertones to one another, and then, so that thebailiff should hear: "Where's the dog? We're to have the dog withus. "

Matters were not improved by Mons coming down the steps with abeautifully pious expression, and holding a ten-krone note over hischest. "It's all one now, " said Erik; "for we've got to have thedog with us!" Mons' face underwent a sudden change, and he beganto swear. They pulled the carts about without getting anything done, and their eyes gleamed with anger. 

The bailiff came out upon the steps with his overcoat on. "Looksharp about getting the horses in!" he thundered. 

The men of Stone Farm were just as strict about their order ofprecedence as the real inhabitants of the island, and it was justas complicated. The head man sat at the top of the table and helpedhimself first, he went first in mowing and reaping, and had thefirst girl to lay the load when the hay was taken in; he was thefirst man up, and went first when they set out for the fields, and no one might throw down his tools until he had done so. Afterhim came the second man, the third, and so on, and lastly the day-laborers. When no great personal preference interfered, the headman was as a matter of course the sweetheart of the head girl, andso on downwards; and if one of them left, his successor took overthe relation: it was a question of equilibrium. In this, however, the order of precedence was often broken, but never in the matterof the horses. Gustav's horses were the poorest, and no power inthe world would have induced the head man or Erik to drive them, let alone the farmer himself. 

The bailiff knew it, and saw how the men were enjoying themselveswhen Gustav's nags were put in. He concealed his irritation, butwhen they exultantly placed Gustav's cart hindmost in the row, itwas too much for him, and he ordered it to be driven in front ofthe others. 

"My horses aren't accustomed to go behind the tail-pullers!" saidKarl Johan, throwing down his reins. It was the nickname for thelast in the row. The others stood trying not to smile, and thebailiff was almost boiling over. 

"If you're so bent upon being first, be it by all means, " he saidquietly. "I can very well drive behind you. "

"No, my horses come after the head man's, not after thetail-puller's, " said Erik. 

This was really a term of abuse in the way in which they used it, one after the other, with covert glances. If he was going to putup with this from the whole row, his position on the farm would beuntenable. 

"Yes, and mine go behind Erik's, " began Anders now, "not after--after Gustav's, " he corrected himself quickly, for the bailiff hadfixed his eyes upon him, and taken a step forward to knock him down. 

The bailiff stood silent for a moment as if listening, the musclesof his arms quivering. Then he sprang into the cart. 

"You're all out of your senses to-day, " he said. "But now I'm goingto drive first, and the man who dares to say a word against it shallhave one between the eyes that will send him five days into nextweek!" So saying he swung out of the row, and Erik's horses, whichwanted to turn, received a cut from his whip that made them rear. Erik stormed at them. 

The men went about crestfallen, and gave the bailiff time to getwell ahead. "Well, I suppose we'd better see about starting now, "said Karl Johan at length, as he got into his wagon. The bailiffwas already some way ahead; Gustav's nags were doing their very bestto-day, and seemed to like being in front. But Karl Johan's horseswere displeased, and hurried on; they did not approve of the newarrangement. 

At the village shop they made a halt, and consoled themselvesa little. When they started again, Karl Johan's horses wererefractory, and had to be quieted. 

The report of the catch had spread through the country, and cartsfrom other farms caught them up or crossed them on their way to thefishing-villages. Those who lived nearer the town were already ontheir way home with swaying loads. "Shall we Meet in the town fora drink?" cried one man to Karl Johan as he passed. "I'm coming infor another load. "

"No, we're driving for the master to-day!" answered Karl Johan, pointing to the bailiff in front. 

"Yes, I see him. He's driving a fine pair to-day! I thought it wasKing Lazarus!"

An acquaintance of Karl Johan's came toward them with a swayingload of herring. He was the only man on one of the small farms. "So you've been to the town too for winter food, " said Karl Johan, reining in his horse. 

"Yes, for the pigs!" answered the other. "It was laid in for therest of us at the end of the summer. This isn't food for men!" Andhe took up a herring between his fingers, and pretended to break itin two. 

"No, I suppose not for such fine gentlemen, " answered Karl Johansnappishly. "Of course, you're in such a high station that you eatat the same table as your master and mistress, I've heard. "

"Yes, that's the regular custom at our place, " answered the other. "We know nothing about masters and dogs. " And he drove on. The wordsrankled with Karl Johan, he could not help drawing comparisons. 

They had caught up the bailiff, and now the horses became unruly. They kept trying to pass and took every unlooked-for opportunity ofpushing on, so that Karl Johan nearly drove his team into the backof the bailiff's cart. At last he grew tired of holding them in, and gave them the rein, when they pushed out over the border of theditch and on in front of Gustav's team, danced about a little on thehigh-road, and then became quiet. Now it was Erik's horses that weremad. 

At the farm all the laborers' wives had been called in for theafternoon, the young cattle were in the enclosure, and Pelle ranfrom cottage to cottage with the message. He was to help the womentogether with Lasse, and was delighted with this break in the dailyroutine; it was a whole holiday for him. 

At dinner-time the men came home with their heavy loads of herring, which were turned out upon the stone paving round the pump inthe upper yard. There had been no opportunity for them to enjoythemselves in the town, and they were in a bad temper. Only Mons, the ape, went about grinning all over his face. He had been up tohis sick mother with the money for the doctor and medicine, and cameback at the last minute with a bundle under his arm in the best ofspirits. "That was a medicine!" he said over and over again, smacking his lips, "a mighty strong medicine. "

He had had a hard time with the bailiff before he got leave to go onhis errand. The bailiff was a suspicious man, but it was difficultto hold out against Mons' trembling voice when he urged that itwould be too hard on a poor man to deny him the right to help hissick mother. "Besides, she lives close by here, and perhaps I shallnever see her again in this life, " said Mons mournfully. "And thenthere's the money that the master advanced me for it. Shall I go andthrow it away on drink, while she's lying there without enough tobuy bread with?"

"Well, how was your mother?" asked the bailiff, when Mons camehurrying up at the last moment. 

"Oh, she can't last much longer!" said Mons, with a quiver in hisvoice. But he was beaming all over his face. 

The others threw him angry glances while they unloaded the herring. They would have liked to thrash him for his infernal good luck. Butthey recovered when they got into their room and he undid the bundle. "That's to you all from my sick mother!" he said, and drew forth akeg of spirits. "And I was to give you her best respects, and thankyou for being so good to her little son. "

"Where did you go?" asked Erik. 

"I sat in the tavern on the harbor hill all the time, so as tokeep an eye on you; I couldn't resist looking at you, you lookedso delightfully thirsty. I wonder you didn't lie down flat anddrink out of the sea, every man Jack of you!"

In the afternoon the cottagers' wives and the farm-girls sat roundthe great heaps of herring by the pump, and cleaned the fish. Lasseand Pelle pumped water to rinse them in, and cleaned out the bigsalt-barrels that the men rolled up from the cellar; and two ofthe elder women were entrusted with the task of mixing. The bailiffwalked up and down by the front steps and smoked his pipe. 

As a general rule, the herring-pickling came under the category ofpleasant work, but to-day there was dissatisfaction all along theline. The women chattered freely as they worked, but their talk wasnot quite innocuous--it was all carefully aimed; the men had madethem malicious. When they laughed, there was the sound of a hiddenmeaning in their laughter. The men had to be called out and givenorders about every single thing that had to be done; they went aboutit sullenly, and then at once withdrew to their rooms. But whenthere they were all the gayer, and sang and enjoyed themselves. 

"They're doing themselves proud in there, " said Lasse, with a sighto Pelle. "They've got a whole keg of spirits that Mons had hiddenin his herring. They say it's so extra uncommon good. " Lasse had nottasted it himself. 

The two kept out of the wrangling; they felt themselves too weak. The girls had not had the courage to refuse the extra Sunday work, but they were not afraid to pass little remarks, and tittered atnothing, to make the bailiff think it was at him. They kept onasking in a loud voice what the time was, or stopped working tolisten to the ever-increasing gaiety in the men's rooms. Now andthen a man was thrown out from there into the yard, and shuffledin again, shamefaced and grinning. 

One by one the men came sauntering out. They had their caps on theback of their heads now, and their gaze was fixed. They took upa position in the lower yard, and hung over the fence, looking atthe girls, every now and then bursting into a laugh and stoppingsuddenly, with a frightened glance at the bailiff. 

The bailiff was walking up and down by the steps. He had laidaside his pipe and become calmer; and when the men came out, hewas cracking a whip and exercising himself in self-restraint. 

"If I liked I could bend him until both ends met!" he heard Eriksay aloud in the middle of a conversation. The bailiff earnestlywished that Erik would make the attempt. His muscles were burningunder this unsatisfied desire to let himself go; but his brain wasreveling in visions of fights, he was grappling with the whole flockand going through all the details of the battle. He had gone throughthese battles so often, especially of late; he had thought out allthe difficult situations, and there was not a place in all StoneFarm in which the things that would serve as weapons were not knownto him. 

"What's the time?" asked one of the girls aloud for at least thetwentieth time. 

"A little longer than your chemise, " answered Erik promptly. 

The girls laughed. "Oh, nonsense! Tell us what it really is!"exclaimed another. 

"A quarter to the miller's girl, " answered Anders. 

"Oh, what fools you are! Can't you answer properly? You, KarlJohan!"

"It's short!" said Karl Johan gravely. 

"No, seriously now, I'll tell you what it is, " exclaimed Monsinnocently, drawing a great "turnip" out of his pocket. "It's--" helooked carefully at the watch, and moved his lips as if calculating. "The deuce!" he exclaimed, bringing down his hand in amazement onthe fence. "Why, it's exactly the same time as it was this timeyesterday. "

The jest was an old one, but the women screamed with laughter; forMons was the jester. 

"Never mind about the time, " said the bailiff, coming up. "But tryand get through your work. "

"No, time's for tailors and shoemakers, not for honest people!"said Anders in an undertone. 

The bailiff turned upon him as quick as a cat, and Anders' armdarted up above his head bent as if to ward off a blow. The bailiffmerely expectorated with a scornful smile, and began his pacing upand down afresh, and Anders stood there, red to the roots of hishair, and not knowing what to do with his eyes. He scratched theback of his head once or twice, but that could not explain away thatstrange movement of his arm. The others were laughing at him, so hehitched up his trousers and sauntered down toward the men's rooms, while the women screamed with laughter, and the men laid their headsupon the fence and shook with merriment. 

So the day passed, with endless ill-natured jesting and spitefulness. In the evening the men wandered out to indulge in horse-play on thehigh-road and annoy the passersby. Lasse and Pelle were tired, andwent early to bed. 

"Thank God we've got through this day!" said Lasse, when he hadgot into bed. "It's been a regular bad day. It's a miracle that noblood's been shed; there was a time when the bailiff looked as ifhe might do anything. But Erik must know far he can venture. "

Next morning everything seemed to be forgotten. The men attended tothe horses as usual, and at six o'clock went out into the field fora third mowing of clover. They looked blear-eyed, heavy and dull. The keg lay outside the stable-door empty; and as they went pastthey kicked it. 

Pelle helped with the herring to-day too, but he no longer foundit amusing. He was longing already to be out in the open with hiscattle; and here he had to be at everybody's beck and call. As oftenas he dared, he made some pretext for going outside the farm, forthat helped to make the time pass. 

Later in the morning, while the men were mowing the thin clover, Erik flung down his scythe so that it rebounded with a ringingsound from the swaths. The others stopped their work. 

"What's the matter with you, Erik?" asked Karl Johan. "Have you gota bee in your bonnet?"

Erik stood with his knife in his hand, feeling its edge, and neitherheard nor saw. Then he turned up his face and frowned at the sky;his eyes seemed to have sunk into his head and become blind, andhis lips stood out thick. He muttered a few inarticulate sounds, and started up toward the farm. 

The others stood still and followed him with staring eyes; then oneafter another they threw down their scythes and moved away, onlyKarl Johan remaining where he was. 

Pelle had just come out to the enclosure to see that none of theyoung cattle had broken their way out. "When he saw the men comingup toward the farm in a straggling file like a herd of cattle onthe move, he suspected something was wrong and ran in. 

"The men are coming up as fast as they can, father!" he whispered. 

"They're surely not going to do it?" said Lasse, beginning totremble. 

The bailiff was carrying things from his room down to the pony-carriage; he was going to drive to the town. He had his arms fullwhen Erik appeared at the big, open gate below, with distorted faceand a large, broad-bladed knife in his hand. "Where the devil ishe?" he said aloud, and circled round once with bent head, like anangry bull, and then walked up through the fence straight toward thebailiff. The latter started when he saw him and, through the gate, the others coming up full speed behind him. He measured the distanceto the steps, but changed his mind, and advanced toward Erik, keeping behind the wagon and watching every movement that Erik made, while he tried to find a weapon. Erik followed him round the wagon, grinding his teeth and turning his eyes obliquely up at hisopponent. 

The bailiff went round and round the wagon and made half movements;he could not decide what to do. But then the others came up andblocked his way. His face turned white with fear, and he tore awhiffletree from the wagon, which with a push he sent rolling intothe thick of them, so that they fell back in confusion. This madean open space between him and Erik, and Erik sprang quickly overthe pole, with his knife ready to strike; but as he sprang, thewhiffletree descended upon his head. The knife-thrust fell upon thebailiff's shoulder, but it was feeble, and the knife just grazedhis side as Erik sank to the ground. The others stood staring inbewilderment. 

"Carry him down to the mangling-cellar!" cried the bailiff in acommanding tone, and the men dropped their knives and obeyed. 

The battle had stirred Pelle's blood into a tumult, and he wasstanding by the pump, jumping up and down. Lasse had to take a firmhold of him, for it looked as if he would throw himself into thefight. Then when the great strong Erik sank to the ground insensiblefrom a blow on the head, he began to jump as if he had St. Vitus'sDance. He jumped into the air with drooping head, and let himselffall heavily, all the time uttering short, shrill bursts of laughter. Lasse spoke to him angrily, thinking it was unnecessarily foolishbehavior on his part; and then he picked him up and held him firmlyin his hands, while the little fellow trembled all over his body inhis efforts to free himself and go on with his jumping. 

"What can be wrong with him?" said Lasse tearfully to the cottagers'wives. "Oh dear, what shall I do?" He carried him down to their roomin a sad state of mind, because the moon was waning, and it wouldnever pass off!

Down in the mangling-cellar they were busy with Erik, pouring brandyinto his mouth and bathing his head with vinegar. Kongstrup was notat home, but the mistress herself was down there, wringing her handsand cursing Stone Farm--her own childhood's home! Stone Farm hadbecome a hell with its murder and debauchery! she said, withoutcaring that they were all standing round her and heard every word. 

The bailiff had driven quickly off in the pony-carriage to fetch adoctor and to report what he had done in defence of his life. Thewomen stood round the pump and gossiped, while the men and girlswandered about in confusion; there was no one to issue orders. Butthen the mistress came out on to the steps and looked at them fora little, and they all found something to do. Hers were piercingeyes! The old women shook themselves and went back to their work. It reminded them so pleasantly of old times, when the master of theStone Farm of their youth rushed up with anger in his eyes when theywere idling. 

Down in their room, Lasse sat watching Pelle, who lay talking andlaughing in delirium, so that his father hardly knew whether tolaugh or to cry. 

XV

"She must have had right on her side, for he never said a cross wordwhen she started off with her complaints and reproaches, and them soloud that you could hear them right through the walls and down inthe servants' room and all over the farm. But it was stupid of herall the same, for she only drove him distracted and sent him away. And how will it go with a farm in the long run, when the farmerspends all his time on the high-roads because he can't stay at home?It's a poor sort of affection that drives the man away from hishome. "

Lasse was standing in the stable on Sunday evening talking to thewomen about it while they milked. Pelle was there too, busy with hisown affairs, but listening to what was said. 

"But she wasn't altogether stupid either, " said Thatcher Holm'swife. "For instance when she had Fair Maria in to do housemaid'swork, so that he could have a pretty face to look at at home. Sheknew that if you have food at home you don't go out for it. But ofcourse it all led to nothing when she couldn't leave off frighteninghim out of the house with her crying and her drinking. "

"I'm sure he drinks too!" said Pelle shortly. 

"Yes, of course he gets drunk now and then, " said Lasse in areproving tone. "But he's a man, you see, and may have his reasonsbesides. But it's ill when a woman takes to drinking. " Lasse wascross. The boy was beginning to have opinions of his own prettywell on everything, and was always joining in when grown peoplewere talking. 

"I maintain"--he went on, turning again to the women--"that he'dbe a good husband, if only he wasn't worried with crying and a badconscience. Things go very well too when he's away. He's at homepretty well every day, and looks after things himself, so thatthe bailiff's quite upset, for _he_ likes to be king of thecastle. To all of us, the master's like one of ourselves; he'seven forgotten the grudge he had against Gustav. "

"There can't be very much to bear him a grudge for, unless it isthat he'll get a wife with money. They say Bodil's saved more thana hundred krones from her two or three months as housemaid. Somepeople can--they get paid for what the rest of us have always hadto do for nothing. " It was one of the old women who spoke. 

"Well, we'll just see whether he ever gets her for a wife. I doubtit myself. One oughtn't to speak evil of one's fellow-servant, butBodil's not a faithful girl. That matter with the master must gofor what it was--as I once said to Gustav when he was raging aboutit; the master comes before his men! Bengta was a good wife to mein every way, but she too was very fond of laying herself out forthe landlord at home. The greatest take first; that's the way ofthe world! But Bodil's never of the same mind for long together. Now she's carrying on with the pupil, though he's not sixteen yet, and takes presents from him. Gustav should get out of it in time;it always leads to misfortune when love gets into a person. We'vegot an example of that at the farm here. "

"I was talking to some one the other day who thought that themistress hadn't gone to Copenhagen at all, but was with relationsin the south. She's run away from him, you'll see!"

"That's the genteel thing to do nowadays, it seems!" said Lasse. "If only she'll stay away! Things are much better as they are. "

 * * * * *

An altogether different atmosphere seemed to fill Stone Farm. Thedismal feeling was gone; no wailing tones came from the house andsettled upon one like horse flies and black care. The change wasmost apparent in the farmer. He looked ten or twenty years younger, and joked good-humoredly like one freed from chains and fetters. Hetook an interest in the work of the farm, drove to the quarry twoor three times a day in his gig, was present whenever a new pieceof work was started, and would often throw off his coat and take ahand in it. Fair Maria laid his table and made his bed, and he wasnot afraid of showing his kindness for her. His good humor wasinfectious and made everything pleasanter. 

But it could not be denied that Lasse had his own burden to bear. His anxiety to get married grew greater with the arrival of verycold weather as early as December; he longed to have his feet underhis own table, and have a woman to himself who should be everythingto him. He had not entirely given up thoughts of Karna yet, but hehad promised Thatcher Holm's wife ten krones down if she could findsome one that would do for him. 

He had really put the whole matter out of his head as animpossibility, and had passed into the land of old age; but whatwas the use of shutting yourself in, when you were all the timelooking for doors through which to slip out again? Lasse lookedout once more, and as usual it was Pelle who brought life andjoy to the house. 

Down in the outskirts of the fishing-village there lived a woman, whose husband had gone to sea and had not been heard of for a goodmany years. Two or three times on his way to and from school, Pellehad sought shelter from the weather in her porch, and they hadgradually become good friends; he performed little services for her, and received a cup of hot coffee in return. When the cold was verybitter, she always called him in; and then she would tell him aboutthe sea and about her good-for-nothing husband, who kept away andleft her to toil for her living by mending nets for the fishermen. In return Pelle felt bound to tell her about Father Lasse, andMother Bengta who lay at home in the churchyard at Tommelilla. The talk never came to much more, for she always returned to herhusband who had gone away and left her a widow. 

"I suppose he's drowned, " Pelle would say. 

"No, he isn't, for I've had no warning, " she answered decidedly, always in the same words. 

Pelle repeated it all to his father, who was very much interested. "Well, did you run in to Madam Olsen to-day?" was the first thinghe said when the boy came in from school; and then Pelle had totell him every detail several times over. It could never be toocircumstantially told for Lasse. 

"You've told her, I suppose, that Mother Bengta's dead? Yes, ofcourse you have! Well, what did she ask about me to-day? Does sheknow about the legacy?" (Lasse had recently had twenty-five kronesleft him by an uncle. ) "You might very well let fall a word or twoabout that, so that she shouldn't think we're quite paupers. "

Pelle was the bearer of ambiguous messages backward and forward. From Lasse he took little things in return for her kindness tohimself, such as embroidered handkerchiefs and a fine silk kerchief, the last remnants of Mother Bengta's effects. It would be hard tolose them if this new chance failed, for then there would be nomemories to fall back upon. But Lasse staked everything upon onecard. 

One day Pelle brought word that warning had come to Madam Olsen. Shehad been awakened in the night by a big black dog that stood gaspingat the head of her bed. Its eyes shone in the darkness, and sheheard the water dripping from its fur. She understood that it mustbe the ship's dog with a message for her, and went to the window;and out in the moonlight on the sea she saw a ship sailing with allsail set. She stood high, and you could see the sea and sky rightthrough her. Over the bulwark hung her husband and the others, andthey were transparent; and the salt water was dripping from theirhair and beards and running down the side of the ship. 

In the evening Lasse put on his best clothes. 

"Are we going out this evening?" asked Pelle in glad surprise. 

"No--well, that's to say I am, just a little errand. If any oneasks after me, you must say that I've gone to the smith about a newnose-ring for the bull. "

"And mayn't I go with you?" asked Pelle on the verge of tears. 

"No, you must be good and stay at home for this once. Lasse pattedhim on the head. 

"Where are you going then?"

"I'm going--" Lasse was about to make up a lie about it, but had notthe heart to do it. "You mustn't ask me!" he said. 

"Shall I know another day, then, without asking?"

"Yes, you shall, for certain--sure!"

Lasse went out, but came back again. Pelle was sitting on the edgeof the bed, crying; it was the first time Father Lasse had gone outwithout taking him with him. 

"Now you must be a good boy and go to bed, " he said gravely. "Orelse I shall stay at home with you; but if I do, it may spoil thingsfor us both. "

So Pelle thought better of it and began to undress; and at lastLasse got off. 

When Lasse reached Madam Olsen's house, it was shut up and indarkness. He recognized it easily from Pelle's descriptions, andwalked round it two or three times to see how the walls stood. Bothtimber and plaster looked good, and there was a fair-sized pieceof ground belonging to it, just big enough to allow of its beingattended to on Sundays, so that one could work for a daily wageon weekdays. 

Lasse knocked at the door, and a little while after a white formappeared at the window, and asked who was there. 

"It's Pelle's father, Lasse Karlsson, " said Lasse, stepping outinto the moonlight. 

The door was unbolted, and a soft voice said: "Come inside! Don'tstand out there in the cold!" and Lasse stepped over the threshold. There was a smell of sleep in the room, and Lasse had an idea wherethe alcove was, but could see nothing. He heard the breathing as ofa stout person drawing on stockings. Then she struck a match andlighted the lamp. 

They shook hands, and looked at one another as they did so. She worea skirt of striped bed-ticking, which kept her night-jacket together, and had a blue night-cap on her head. She had strong-looking limbsand a good bust, and her face gave a good impression. She was thekind of woman that would not hurt a fly if she were not put upon;but she was not a toiler--she was too soft for that. 

"So this is Pelle's father!" she said. "It's a young son you've got. But do sit down!"

Lasse blinked his eyes a little. He had been afraid that she wouldthink him old. 

"Yes, he's what you'd call a late-born child; but I'm still able todo a man's work in more ways than one. "

She laughed while she busied herself in placing on the table coldbacon and pork sausage, a dram, bread and a saucer of dripping. "But now you must eat!" she said. "That's what a man's known by. And you've come a long way. "

It only now occurred to Lasse that he must give some excuse for hisvisit. "I ought really to be going again at once. I only wanted tocome down and thank you for your kindness to the boy. " He even gotup as if to go. 

"Oh, but what nonsense!" she exclaimed, pushing him down into hischair again. "It's very plain, but do take some. " She pressed theknife into his hand, and eagerly pushed the food in front of him. Her whole person radiated warmth and kind-heartedness as she stoodclose to him and attended to his wants; and Lasse enjoyed it all. 

"You must have been a good wife to your husband, " he said. 

"Yes, that's true enough!" she said, as she sat down and lookedfrankly at him. "He got all that he could want, and almost more, when he was on shore. He stayed in bed until dinner, and I lookedafter him like a little child; but he never gave me a hand's turnfor it, and at last one gets tired. "

"That was wrong of him, " said Lasse; "for one good action deservesanother. I don't think Bengta would have anything like that to sayof me if she was asked. "

"Well, there's certainly plenty to do in a house, when there's aman that has the will to help. I've only one cow, of course, forI can't manage more; but two might very well be kept, and there'sno debt on the place. "

"I'm only a poor devil compared to you!" said Lasse despondently. "Altogether I've got fifty krones, and we both have decent clothesto put on; but beyond that I've only got a pair of good hands. "

"And I'm sure that's worth a good deal! And I should fancy you'renot afraid of fetching a pail of water or that sort of thing, are you?"

"No, I'm not. And I'm not afraid of a cup of coffee in bed ona Sunday morning, either. "

She laughed. "Then I suppose I ought to have a kiss!" she said. 

"Yes, I suppose you ought, " said Lasse delighted, and kissed her. "And now we may hope for happiness and a blessing for all threeof us. I know you're fond of the laddie. "

There still remained several things to discuss, there was coffeeto be drunk, and Lasse had to see the cow and the way the house wasarranged. In the meantime it had grown late. 

"You'd better stay here for the night, " said Madam Olsen. 

Lasse stood wavering. There was the boy sleeping alone, and he hadto be at the farm by four o'clock; but it was cold outside, and hereit was so warm and comfortable in every way. 

"Yes, perhaps I'd better, " he said, laying down his hat and coatagain. 

 * * * * *

When at about four he crept into the cow-stable from the back, thelantern was still burning in the herdsman's room. Lasse thoughthe was discovered, and began to tremble; it was a criminal andunjustifiable action to be away from the herd a whole night. Butit was only Pelle, who lay huddled up upon the chest asleep, withhis clothes on. His face was black and swollen with crying. 

All that day there was something reserved, almost hostile, aboutPelle's behavior, and Lasse suffered under it. There was nothingfor it; he must speak out. 

"It's all settled now, Pelle, " he said at last. "We're going tohave a house and home, and a nice-looking mother into the bargain. It's Madam Olsen. Are you satisfied now?"

Pelle had nothing against it. "Then may I come with you next time?"he asked, still a little sullen. 

"Yes, next time you shall go with me. I think it'll be on Sunday. We'll ask leave to go out early, and pay her a visit. " Lasse saidthis with a peculiar flourish; he had become more erect. 

Pelle went with him on Sunday; they were free from the middle ofthe afternoon. But after that it would not have done to ask forleave very soon again. Pelle saw his future mother nearly every day, but it was more difficult for Lasse. When the longing to see hissweetheart came over him too strongly, he fussed over Pelle untilthe boy fell asleep, and then changed his clothes and stole out. 

After a wakeful night such as one of these, he was not up to hiswork, and went about stumbling over his own feet; but his eyes shonewith a youthful light, as if he had concluded a secret treaty withlife's most powerful forces. 

XVI

Erik was standing on the front steps, with stooping shoulders andface half turned toward the wall. He stationed himself there everymorning at about four, and waited for the bailiff to come down. Itwas now six, and had just begun to grow light. 

Lasse and Pelle had finished cleaning out the cow-stable anddistributing the first feed, and they were hungry. They werestanding at the door of the stable, waiting for the breakfast-bellto ring; and at the doors of the horse-stables, the men were doingthe same. At a quarter-past the hour they went toward the basement, with Karl Johan at their head, and Lasse and Pelle also turned outand hurried to the servants' room, with every sign of a goodappetite. 

"Now, Erik, we're going down to breakfast!" shouted Karl Johan asthey passed, and Erik came out of his corner by the steps, andshuffled along after them. There was nothing the matter with hisdigestive powers at any rate. 

They ate their herring in silence; the food stopped their mouthscompletely. When they had finished, the head man knocked on thetable with the handle of his knife, and Karna came in with twodishes of porridge and a pile of bread-and-dripping. 

"Where's Bodil to-day?" asked Gustav. 

"How should I know? Her bed was standing untouched this morning, "answered Karna, with an exulting look. 

"It's a lie!" cried Gustav, bringing down his spoon with a bangupon the table. 

"You can go into her room and see for yourself; you know the way!"said Karna tartly. 

"And what's become of the pupil to-day, as he hasn't rung?" saidKarl Johan. "Have any of you girls seen him?"

"No, I expect he's overslept himself, " cried Bengta from thewash-house. "And so he may! _I_ don't want to run up andshake life into him every morning!"

"Don't you think you'd better go up and wake him, Gustav?" saidAnders with a wink. "You might see something funny. " The otherslaughed a little. 

"If I wake him, it'll be with this rabbit-skinner, " answered Gustav, exhibiting a large knife. "For then I think I should put him out ofharm's way. "

At this point the farmer himself came down. He held a piece of paperin his hand, and appeared to be in high good humor. "Have you heardthe latest news, good people? At dead of night Hans Peter has elopedwith Bodil!"

"My word! Are the babes and sucklings beginning now?" exclaimedLasse with self-assurance. "I shall have to look after Pelle there, and see that he doesn't run away with Karna. She's fond of youngpeople. " Lasse felt himself to be the man of the company, and wasnot afraid of giving a hit at any one. 

"Hans Peter is fifteen, " said Kongstrup reprovingly, "and passionrages in his heart. " He said this with such comical gravity thatthey all burst into laughter, except Gustav, who sat blinking hiseyes and nodding his head like a drunken man. 

"You shall hear what he says. This lay upon his bed. " Kongstrupheld the paper out in a theatrical attitude and read:

"When you read this, I shall have gone forever. Bodil and I haveagreed to run away to-night. My stern father will never give hisconsent to our union, and therefore we will enjoy the happinessof our love in a secret place where no one can find us. It will bedoing a great wrong to look for us, for we have determined to dietogether rather than fall into the wicked hands of our enemies. I wet this paper with Bodil's and my own tears. But you must notcondemn me for my last desperate step, as I can do nothing elsefor the sake of my great love. 

"HANS PETER. "

"That fellow reads story-books, " said Karl Johan. "He'll do greatthings some day. "

"Yes, he knows exactly what's required for an elopement, " answeredKongstrup merrily. "Even to a ladder, which he's dragged up to thegirl's window, although it's on a level with the ground. I wish hewere only half as thorough in his agriculture. "

"What's to be done now? I suppose they must be searched for?" askedthe head man. 

"Well, I don't know. It's almost a shame to disturb their younghappiness. They'll come of their own accord when they get hungry. What do you think, Gustav? Shall we organize a battue?"

Gustav made no answer, but rose abruptly and went across to themen's rooms. When the others followed him, they found him in bed. 

All day he lay there and never uttered a syllable when any one camein to him. Meanwhile the work suffered, and the bailiff was angry. He did not at all like the new way Kongstrup was introducing--withliberty for every one to say and do exactly as they liked. 

"Go in and pull Gustav out of bed!" he said, in the afternoon, whenthey were in the threshing-barn, winnowing grain. "And if he won'tput his own clothes on, dress him by force. "

But Kongstrup, who was there himself, entering the weight, interfered. "No, if he's ill he must be allowed to keep his bed, "he said. "But it's our duty to do something to cure him. "

"How about a mustard-plaster?" suggested Mons, with a defiantglance at the bailiff. 

Kongstrup rubbed his hands with delight. "Yes, that'll be splendid!"he said. "Go you across, Mons, and get the girls to make a mustard-plaster that we can stick on the pit of his stomach; that's wherethe pain is. "

When Mons came back with the plaster, they went up in a processionto put it on, the farmer himself leading. Kongstrup was well awareof the bailiff's angry looks, which plainly said, "Another wasteof work for the sake of a foolish prank!" But he was inclined fora little fun, and the work would get done somehow. 

Gustav had smelt a rat, for when they arrived he was dressed. Forthe rest of the day he did his work, but nothing could draw a smileout of him. He was like a man moonstruck. 

A few days later a cart drove up to Stone Farm. In the driving-seatsat a broad-shouldered farmer in a fur coat, and beside him, wrappedup from head to foot, sat Hans Peter, while at the back, on thefloor of the cart, lay the pretty Bodil on a little hay, shiveringwith cold. It was the pupil's father who had brought back the twofugitives, whom he had found in lodgings in the town. 

Up in the office Hans Peter received a thrashing that could beheard, and was then let out into the yard, where he wandered aboutcrying and ashamed, until he began to play with Pelle behind thecow-stable. 

Bodil was treated more severely. It must have been the strangefarmer who required that she should be instantly dismissed, forKongstrup was not usually a hard man. She had to pack her things, and after dinner was driven away. She looked good and gentle as shealways did; one would have thought she was a perfect angel--if onehad not known better. 

Next morning Gustav's bed was empty. He had vanished completely, with chest, wooden shoes and everything. 

Lasse looked on at all this with a man's indulgent smile--children'stricks! All that was wanting now was that Karna should squeezeher fat body through the basement window one night, and she toodisappear like smoke--on the hunt for Gustav. 

This did not happen, however; and she became kindly disposed towardLasse again, saw after his and Pelle's clothes, and tried to makethem comfortable. 

Lasse was not blind; he saw very well which way the wind blew, andenjoyed the consciousness of his power. There were now two that hecould have whenever he pleased; he only had to stretch out his hand, and the women-folk snatched at it. He went about all day in a stateof joyful intoxication, and there were days in which he was in suchan elevated condition of mind that he had inward promptings to makeuse of his opportunity. He had always trodden his path in this worldso sedately, done his duty and lived his life in such unwaveringdecency. Why should not he too for once let things go, and try toleap through the fiery hoops? There was a tempting development ofpower in the thought. 

But the uprightness in him triumphed. He had always kept to the one, as the Scriptures commanded, and he would continue to do so. Theother thing was only for the great--Abraham, of whom Pelle had begunto tell him, and Kongstrup. Pelle, too, must never be able to sayanything against his father in that way; he must be clean in hischild's eyes, and be able to look him in the face without shrinking. And then--well, the thought of how the two women would take it inthe event of its being discovered, simply made Lasse blink his redeyes and hang his head. 

 * * * * *

Toward the middle of March, Fru Kongstrup returned unexpectedly. The farmer was getting along very comfortably without her, andher coming took him rather by surprise. Fair Maria was instantlyturned out and sent down to the wash-house. Her not being sent awayaltogether was due to the fact that there was a shortage of maids atthe farm now that Bodil had left. The mistress had brought a youngrelative with her, who was to keep her company and help her in thehouse. 

They appeared to get on very well together. Kongstrup stayed at homeupon the farm and was steady. The three drove out together, and themistress was always hanging on his arm when they went about showingthe place to the young lady. It was easy to see why she had comehome; she could not live without him!

But Kongstrup did not seem to be nearly so pleased about it. Hehad put away his high spirits and retired into his shell once more. When he was going about like this, he often looked as if there wassomething invisible lying in ambush for him and he was afraid ofbeing taken unawares. 

This invisible something reached out after the others, too. FruKongstrup never interfered unkindly in anything, either directlyor in a roundabout way; and yet everything became stricter. Peopleno longer moved freely about the yard, but glanced up at the tallwindows and hurried past. The atmosphere had once more thatoppression about it that made one feel slack and upset anddepressed. 

Mystery once again hung heavy over the roof of Stone Farm. To manygenerations it had stood for prosperity or misfortune--these hadbeen its foundations, and still it drew to itself the constantthoughts of many people. Dark things--terror, dreariness, vaguesuspicions of evil powers--gathered there naturally as in achurchyard. 

And now it all centered round this woman, whose shadow was so heavythat everything brightened when she went away. Her unceasing, wailing protest against her wrongs spread darkness around andbrought weariness with it. It was not even with the idea ofsubmitting to the inevitable that she came back, but only to go onas before, with renewed strength. She could not do without him, butneither could she offer him anything good; she was like those beingswho can live and breathe only in fire, and yet cry out when burnt. She writhed in the flames, and yet she herself fed them. Fair Mariawas her own doing, and now she had brought this new relative intothe house. Thus she herself made easy the path of his infidelity, and then shook the house above him with her complaining. 

An affection such as this was not God's work; powers of evil hadtheir abode in her. 

XVII

Oh, how bitterly cold it was! Pelle was on his way to school, leaning, in a jog-trot, against the wind. At the big thorn Rud wasstanding waiting for him; he fell in, and they ran side by side liketwo blown nags, breathing hard and with heads hanging low. Theircoat-collars were turned up about their ears, and their hands pushedinto the tops of their trousers to share in the warmth of theirbodies. The sleeves of Pelle's jacket were too short, and his wristswere blue with cold. 

They said little, but only ran; the wind snatched the words fromtheir mouths and filled them with hail. It was hard to get enoughbreath to run with, or to keep an eye open. Every other minute theyhad to stop and turn their back to the wind while they filled theirlungs and breathed warm breath up over their faces to bring feelinginto them. The worst part of it was the turning back, before theygot quite up against the wind and into step again. 

The four miles came to an end, and the boys turned into the village. Down here by the shore it was almost sheltered; the rough sea brokethe wind. There was not much of the sea to be seen; what did appearhere and there through the rifts in the squalls came on like amoving wall and broke with a roar into whitish green foam. The windtore the top off the waves in ill-tempered snatches, and carriedsalt rain in over the land. 

The master had not yet arrived. Up at his desk stood Nilen, busilypicking its lock to get at a pipe that Fris had confiscated duringlessons. "Here's your knife!" he cried, throwing a sheath-knife toPelle, who quickly pocketed it. Some peasant boys were pouring coalinto the stove, which was already red-hot; by the windows sat acrowd of girls, hearing one another in hymns. Outside the wavesbroke without ceasing, and when their roar sank for a moment, theshrill voices of boys rose into the air. All the boys of the villagewere on the beach, running in and out under the breakers that lookedas if they would crush them, and pulling driftwood upon shore. 

Pelle had hardly thawed himself when Nilen made him go out withhim. Most of the boys were wet through, but they were laughing andpanting with eagerness. One of them had brought in the name-boardof a ship. _The Simplicity_ was painted on it. They stood roundit and wrangled about what kind of vessel it was and what was itshome-port. 

"Then the ship's gone down, " said Pelle gravely. The others did notanswer; it was so self-evident. 

"Well, " said a boy hesitatingly, "the name-board may have beentorn away by the waves; it's only been nailed on. " They examinedit carefully again; Pelle could not discover anything specialabout it. 

"I rather think the crew have torn it off and thrown it into thesea. One of the nails has been pulled out, " said Nilen, noddingwith an air of mystery. 

"But why should they do that?" asked Pelle, with incredulity. 

"Because they've killed the captain and taken over the commandthemselves, you ass! Then all they've got to do is to christen theship again, and sail as pirates. " The other boys confirmed this witheyes that shone with the spirit of adventure; this one's father hadtold him about it, and that one's had even played a part in it. Hedid not want to, of course, but then he was tied to the mast whilethe mutiny was in progress. 

On a day like this Pelle felt small in every way. The raging of thesea oppressed him and made him feel insecure, but the others werein their element. They possessed themselves of all the horror of theocean, and represented it in an exaggerated form; they heaped up allthe terrors of the sea in play upon the shore: ships went to thebottom with all on board or struck on the rocks; corpses lay rollingin the surf, and drowned men in sea-boots and sou'westers cameup out of the sea at midnight, and walked right into the littlecottages in the village to give warning of their departure. Theydwelt upon it with a seriousness that was bright with inward joy, as though they were singing hymns of praise to the mighty ocean. But Pelle stood out side all this, and felt himself cowardly whenlistening to their tales. He kept behind the others, and wished hecould bring down the big bull and let it loose among them. Then theywould come to him for protection. 

The boys had orders from their parents to take care of themselves, for Marta, the old skipper's widow, had three nights running heardthe sea demand corpses with a short bark. They talked about that, too, and about when the fishermen would venture out again, whilethey ran about the beach. "A bottle, a bottle!" cried one of themsuddenly, dashing off along the shore; he was quite sure he hadseen a bottle bob up out of the surf a little way off, and disappearagain. The whole swarm stood for a long time gazing eagerly out intothe seething foam, and Kilen and another boy had thrown off theirjackets to be ready to jump out when it appeared again. 

The bottle did not appear again, but it had given a spur to theimagination, and every boy had his own solemn knowledge of suchthings. Just now, during the equinoctial storms, many a bottle wentover a ship's side with a last message to those on land. Really andtruly, of course, that was why you learned to write--so as to beable to write your messages when your hour came. Then perhaps thebottle would be swallowed by a shark, or perhaps it would be fishedup by stupid peasants who took it home with them to their wivesto put drink into--this last a good-natured hit at Pelle. But itsometimes happened that it drifted ashore just at the place it wasmeant for; and, if not, it was the finder's business to take it tothe nearest magistrate, if he didn't want to lose his right hand. 

Out in the harbor the waves broke over the mole; the fishermen haddrawn their boats up on shore. They could not rest indoors in theirwarm cottages; the sea and bad weather kept them on the beach nightand day. They stood in shelter behind their boats, yawning heavilyand gazing out to sea, where now and then a sail fluttered past likea storm-beaten bird. 

"In, in!" cried the girls from the schoolroom door, and the boyssauntered slowly up. Pris was walking backward and forward in frontof his desk, smoking his pipe with the picture of the king on it, and with the newspaper sticking out of his pocket. "To your places!"he shouted, striking his desk with the cane. 

"Is there any news?" asked a boy, when they had taken their places. Fris sometimes read aloud the Shipping News to them. 

"I don't know, " answered Fris crossly. "You can get out your slatesand arithmetics. "

"Oh, we're going to do sums, oh, that's fun!" The whole class wasrejoicing audibly as they got out their things. 

Fris did not share the children's delight over arithmetic; hisgifts, he was accustomed to say, were of a purely historical nature. But he accommodated himself to their needs, because long experiencehad taught him that a pandemonium might easily arise on a stormyday such as this; the weather had a remarkable influence uponthe children. His own knowledge extended only as far as ChristianHansen's Part I. ; but there were two peasant boys who had workedon by themselves into Part III. , and they helped the others. 

The children were deep in their work, their long, regular breathingrising and falling in the room like a deep sleep. There was acontinual passing backward and forward to the two arithmeticians, and the industry was only now and then interrupted by some littlepiece of mischief that came over one or another of the children asa reminder; but they soon fell into order again. 

At the bottom of the class there was a sound of sniffing, growingmore and more distinct. Fris laid down his newspaper impatiently. 

"Peter's crying, " said those nearest. 

"Oh-o!" said Fris, peering over his spectacles. "What's the matternow?"

"He says he can't remember what twice two is. "

Fris forced the air through his nostrils and seized the cane, butthought better of it. "Twice two's five!" he said quietly, at whichthere was a laugh at Peter's expense, and work went on again. 

For some time they worked diligently, and then Nilen rose. Frissaw it, but went on reading. 

"Which is the lightest, a pound of feathers or a pound of lead?I can't find it in the answers. "

Fris's hands trembled as he held the paper up close to his face tosee something or other better. It was his mediocrity as a teacherof arithmetic that the imps were always aiming at, but he would_not_ be drawn into a discussion with them. Nilen repeated hisquestion, while the others tittered; but Fris did not hear--he wastoo deep in his paper. So the whole thing dropped. 

Fris looked at his watch; he could soon give them a quarter of anhour's play, a good long quarter of an hour. Then there would onlybe one little hour's worry left, and that school-day could be laidby as another trouble got through. 

Pelle stood up in his place in the middle of the class. He had sometrouble to keep his face in the proper folds, and had to pretendthat his neighbors were disturbing him. At last he got out what hewanted to say, but his ears were a little red at the tips. "If apound of flour costs twelve ores, what will half a quarter of coalcost?"

Fris sat for a little while and looked irresolutely at Pelle. Italways hurt him more when Pelle was naughty than when it was oneof the others, for he had an affection for the boy. "Very well!" hesaid bitterly, coming slowly down with the thick cane in his hand. "Very well!"

"Look out for yourself!" whispered the boys, preparing to putdifficulties in the way of Fris's approach. 

But Pelle did one of those things that were directly opposed to allrecognized rules, and yet gained him respect. Instead of shieldinghimself from the thrashing, he stepped forward and held out bothhands with the palms turned upward. His face was crimson. 

Fris looked at him in surprise, and was inclined to do anythingbut beat him; the look in Pelle's eyes rejoiced his heart. He didnot understand boys as boys, but with regard to human beings hisperceptions were fine, and there was something human here; it wouldbe wrong not to take it seriously. He gave Pelle a sharp strokeacross his hands, and throwing down the cane, called shortly, "Playtime!" and turned away. 

The spray was coming right up to the school wall. A little way outthere was a vessel, looking very much battered and at the mercy ofthe storm; she moved quickly forward a little way, and stood stilland staggered for a time before moving on again, like a drunken man. She was going in the direction of the southern reef. 

The boys had collected behind the school to eat their dinnerin shelter, but suddenly there was the hollow rattling soundof wooden-soled boots over on the shore side, and the coastguardand a couple of fishermen ran out. Then the life-saving apparatuscame dashing up, the horses' manes flying in the wind. There wassomething inspiriting in the pace, and the boys threw downeverything and followed. 

The vessel was now right down by the point. She lay tugging at heranchor, with her stern toward the reef, and the waves washing overher; she looked like an old horse kicking out viciously at someobstacle with its hind legs. The anchor was not holding, and shewas drifting backward on to the reef. 

There were a number of people on the shore, both from the coast andfrom inland. The country-people must have come down to see whetherthe water was wet! The vessel had gone aground and lay rolling onthe reef; the people on board had managed her like asses, said thefishermen, but she was no Russian, but a Lap vessel. The waves wentright over her from end to end, and the crew had climbed into therigging, where they hung gesticulating with their arms. They musthave been shouting something, but the noise of the waves drowned it. 

Pelle's eyes and ears were taking in all the preparations. He wasquivering with excitement, and had to fight against his infirmity, which returned whenever anything stirred his blood. The men on thebeach were busy driving stakes into the sand to hold the apparatus, and arranging ropes and hawsers so that everything should gosmoothly. Special care was bestowed upon the long, fine line thatthe rocket was to carry out to the vessel; alterations were madein it at least twenty times. 

The foreman of the trained Rescue Party stood and took aim with therocket-apparatus; his glance darted out and back again to measurethe distance with the sharpness of a claw. "Ready!" said the others, moving to one side. "Ready!" he answered gravely. For a moment allwas still, while he placed it in another position and then backagain. 

Whe-e-e-e-ew! The thin line stood like a quivering snake in the air, with its runaway head boring through the sodden atmosphere over thesea and its body flying shrieking from the drum and riding out withdeep humming tones to cut its way far out through the storm. Therocket had cleared the distance capitally; it was a good way beyondthe wreck, but too far to leeward. It had run itself out and nowstood wavering in the air like the restless head of a snake whileit dropped. 

"It's going afore her, " said one fisherman. The others were silent, but from their looks it was evident that they were of the sameopinion. "It may still get there, " said the foreman. The rocket hadstruck the water a good way to the north, but the line still stoodin an arch in the air, held up by the stress. It dropped in longwaves toward the south, made a couple of folds in the wind, anddropped gently across the fore part of the vessel. "That's it! Itgot there, all right!" shouted the boys, and sprang on to the sand. The fishermen stamped about with delight, made a sideways movementwith their heads toward the foreman and nodded appreciatively atone another. Out on the vessel a man crawled about in the rigginguntil he got hold of the line, and then crept down into the shroudsto the others again. Their strength could not be up to much, forexcept for that they did not move. 

On shore there was activity. The roller was fixed more firmly tothe ground and the cradle made ready; the thin line was knotted toa thicker rope, which again was to draw the heavy hawser on board:it was important that everything should hold. To the hawser wasattached a pulley as large as a man's head for the drawing-ropesto run in, for one could not know what appliances they would haveon board such an old tub. For safety's sake a board was attachedto the line, upon which were instructions, in English, to haul ituntil a hawser of such-and-such a thickness came on board. This wasunnecessary for ordinary people, but one never knew how stupid suchFinn-Lapps could be. 

"They may haul away now as soon as they like, and let us get donewith it, " said the foreman, beating his hands together. 

"Perhaps they're too exhausted, " said a young fisherman. "They musthave been through a hard time!"

"They must surely be able to haul in a three-quarter-inch rope!Fasten an additional line to the rope, so that we can give thema hand in getting the hawser on board--when they get so far. "

This was done. But out on the wreck they hung stupidly in therigging without ever moving; what in the world were they thinkingabout? The line still lay, motionless on the sand, but it was notfast to the bottom, for it moved when it was tightened by the water;it must have been made fast to the rigging. 

"They've made it fast, the blockheads, " said the foreman. "I supposethey're waiting for us to haul the vessel up on land for them--withthat bit of thread!" He laughed in despair. 

"I suppose they don't know any better, poor things!" said "theMormon. "

No one spoke or moved. They were paralyzed by the incomprehensibilityof it, and their eyes moved in dreadful suspense from the wreck downto the motionless line and back again. The dull horror that ensueswhen men have done their utmost and are beaten back by absolutestupidity, began to creep over them. The only thing the shipwreckedmen did was to gesticulate with their arms. They must have thoughtthat the men on shore could work miracles--in defiance of them. 

"In an hour it'll be all up with them, " said the foreman sadly. "It's hard to stand still and look on. "

A young fisherman came forward. Pelle knew him well, for he had methim occasionally by the cairn where the baby's soul burned in thesummer nights. 

"If one of you'll go with me, I'll try to drift down upon them!"said Niels Koller quietly. 

"It'll be certain death, Niels!" said the foreman, laying his handupon the young man's shoulder. "You understand that, I suppose! I'mnot one to be afraid, but I won't throw away my life. So you knowwhat I think. "

The others took the same view. A boat would be dashed to piecesagainst the moles. It would be impossible to get it out of theharbor in this weather, let alone work down to the wreck with windand waves athwart! It might be that the sea had made a demand uponthe village--no one would try to sneak out of his allotted share;but this was downright madness! With Niels Koller himself it mustpass; his position was a peculiar one--with the murder of a childalmost on his conscience and his sweetheart in prison. He had hisown account to settle with the Almighty; no one ought to dissuadehim!

"Then will none of you?" asked Niels, and looked down at the ground. "Well, then I must try it alone. " He went slowly up the beach. Howhe was going to set about it no one knew, nor did he himself; butthe spirit had evidently come over him. 

They stood looking after him. Then a young sailor said slowly:"I suppose I'd better go with him and take the one oar. He cando nothing by himself. " It was Nilen's brother. 

"It wouldn't sound right if I stopped you from going, my son, "said "the Mormon. " "But can two of you do more than one?"

"Niels and I were at school together and have always been friends, "answered the young man, looking into his father's face. Then hemoved away, and a little farther off began to run to catch upNiels. 

The fishermen looked after them in silence. "Youth and madness!"one of them then said. "One blessing is that they'll never be ableto get the boat out of the harbor. "

"If I know anything of Karl, they will get the boat out!" said"the Mormon" gloomily. 

Some time passed, and then a boat appeared on the south side of theharbor, where there was a little shelter. They must have dragged itin over land with the women's help. The harbor projected a little, so that the boat escaped the worst of the surf before emerging fromits protection. They were working their way out; it was all theycould do to keep the boat up against the wind, and they scarcelymoved. Every other moment the whole of the inside of the boat wasvisible, as if it would take nothing to upset it; but that had oneadvantage, in that the water they shipped ran out again. 

It was evident that they meant to work their way out so far thatthey could make use of the high sea and scud down upon the wreck--adesperate idea! But the whole thing was such sheer madness, onewould never have thought they had been born and bred by the water. After half an hour's rowing, it seemed they could do no more; andthey were not more than a couple of good cable-lengths out from theharbor. They lay still, one of them holding the boat up to the waveswith the oars, while the other struggled with something--a bit ofsail as big as a sack. Yes, yes, of course! Now if they took in theoars and left themselves at the mercy of the weather--with wind andwaves abaft and beam!--they would fill with water at once!

But they did not take in the oars. One of them sat and kept afrenzied watch while they ran before the wind. It looked veryawkward, but it was evident that it gave greater command of theboat. Then they suddenly dropped the sail and rowed the boat hardup against the wind--when a sea was about to break. None of thefishermen could recollect ever having seen such navigation before;it was young blood, and they knew what they were about. Everyinstant one felt one must say Now! But the boat was like a livingthing that understood how to meet everything; it always rose aboveevery caprice. The sight made one warm, so that for a time oneforgot it was a sail for life or death. Even if they managed toget down to the wreck, what then? Why, they would be dashed againstthe side of the vessel!

Old Ole Koller, Niels's father, came down over the sandbanks. "Who'sthat out there throwing themselves away?" he asked. The questionsounded harsh as it broke in upon the silence and suspense. No onelooked at him--Ole was rather garrulous. He glanced round the flock, as though he were looking for some particular person. "Niels--haveany of you seen Niels?" he asked quietly. One man nodded toward thesea, and he was silent and overcome. 

The waves must have broken their oars or carried them away, for theydropped the bit of sail, the boat burrowed aimlessly with its prow, and settled down lazily with its broadside to the wind. Then a greatwave took them and carried them in one long sweep toward the wreck, and they disappeared in the breaking billow. 

When the water sank to rest, the boat lay bottom upward, rolling inthe lee of the vessel. 

A man was working his way from the deck up into the rigging. "Isn'tthat Niels?" said Ole, gazing until his eyes watered. "I wonder ifthat isn't Niels?"

"No; it's my brother Karl, " said Nilen. 

"Then Niels is gone, " said Ole plaintively. "Then Niels is gone. "

The others had nothing to answer; it was a matter of course thatNiels would be lost. 

Ole stood for a little while shrinkingly, as if expecting that someone would say it was Niels. He dried his eyes, and tried to make itout for himself, but they only filled again. "Your eyes are young, "he said to Pelle, his head trembling. "Can't you see that it'sNiels?"

"No, it's Karl, " said Pelle softly. 

And Ole went with bowed head through the crowd, without looking atany one or turning aside for anything. He moved as though he werealone in the world, and walked slowly out along the south shore. He was going to meet the dead body. 

There was no time to think. The line began to be alive, glidedout into the sea, and drew the rope after it. Yard after yard itunrolled itself and glided slowly into the sea like an awakenedsea-animal, and the thick hawser began to move. 

Karl fastened it high up on the mast, and it took all the men--andboys, too--to haul it taut. Even then it hung in a heavy curve fromits own weight, and the cradle dragged through the crests of thewaves when it went out empty. It was more under than above the wateras they pulled it back again with the first of the crew, a funnylittle dark man, dressed in mangy gray fur. He was almost choked inthe crossing, but when once they had emptied the water out of him hequite recovered and chattered incessantly in a curious language thatno one understood. Five little fur-clad beings, one by one, werebrought over by the cradle, and last of all came Karl with a littlesquealing pig in his arms. 

"They _were_ a poor lot of seamen!" said Karl, in the intervalsof disgorging water. "Upon my word, they understood nothing. They'dmade the rocket-line fast to the shrouds, and tied the loose endround the captain's waist! And you should just have seen the muddleon board!" He talked loudly, but his glance seemed to veil something. 

The men now went home to the village with the shipwrecked sailors;the vessel looked as if it would still keep out the water for sometime. 

Just as the school-children were starting to go home, Ole camestaggering along with his son's dead body on his back. He walkedwith loose knees bending low and moaning under his burden. Frisstopped him and helped him to lay the dead body in the schoolroom. There was a deep wound in the forehead. When Pelle saw the deadbody with its gaping wound, he began to jump up and down, jumpingquickly up, and letting himself drop like a dead bird. The girlsdrew away from him, screaming, and Fris bent over him and lookedsorrowfully at him. 

"It isn't from naughtiness, " said the other boys. "He can't helpit; he's taken that way sometimes. He got it once when he saw a manalmost killed. " And they carried him off to the pump to bring himto himself again. 

Fris and Ole busied themselves over the dead body, placed somethingunder the head, and washed away the sand that had got rubbed intothe skin of the face. "He was my best boy, " said Fris, stroking thedead man's head with a trembling hand. "Look well at him, children, and never forget him again; he was my best boy. "

He stood silent, looking straight before him, with dimmed spectaclesand hands hanging loosely. Ole was crying; he had suddenly grownpitiably old and decrepit. "I suppose I ought to get him home?" hesaid plaintively, trying to raise his son's shoulders; but he hadnot the strength. 

"Just let him lie!" said Fris. "He's had a hard day, and he'sresting now. "

"Yes, he's had a hard day, " said Ole, raising his son's hand tohis mouth to breathe upon it. "And look how he's used the oar!The blood's burst out at his finger-tips!" Ole laughed through histears. "He was a good lad. He was food to me, and light and heattoo. There never came an unkind word out of his mouth to me thatwas a burden on him. And now I've got no son, Fris! I'm childlessnow! And I'm not able to do anything!"

"You shall have enough to live upon, Ole, " said Fris. 

"Without coming on the parish? I shouldn't like to come uponthe parish. "

"Yes, without coming on the parish, Ole. "

"If only he can get peace now! He had so little peace in this worldthese last few years. There's been a song made about his misfortune, Fris, and every time he heard it he was like a new-born lamb inthe cold. The children sing it, too. " Ole looked round at themimploringly. "It was only a piece of boyish heedlessness, and nowhe's taken his punishment. "

"Your son hasn't had any punishment, Ole, and neither has hedeserved any, " said Fris, putting his arm about the old man'sshoulder. "But he's given a great gift as he lies there and cannotsay anything. He gave five men their lives and gave up his own inreturn for the one offense that he committed in thoughtlessness! Itwas a generous son you had, Ole!" Fris looked at him with a brightsmile. 

"Yes, " said Ole, with animation. "He saved five people--of coursehe did--yes, he did!" He had not thought of that before; it wouldprobably never have occurred to him. But now some one else had givenit form, and he clung to it. "He saved five lives, even if they wereonly Finn-Lapps; so perhaps God will not disown him. "

Fris shook his head until his gray hair fell over his eyes. "Neverforget him, children!" he said; "and now go quietly home. " Thechildren silently took up their things and went; at that momentthey would have done anything that Fris told them: he had completepower over them. 

Ole stood staring absently, and then took Fris by the sleeve anddrew him up to the dead body. "He's rowed well!" he said. "Theblood's come out at his finger-ends, look!" And he raised his son'shands to the light. "And there's a wrist, Fris! He could take upan old man like me and carry me like a little child. " Ole laughedfeebly. "But I carried him; all the way from the south reef Icarried him on my back. I'm too heavy for you, father! I could hearhim say, for he was a good son; but I carried him, and now I can'tdo anything more. If only they see that!"--he was looking again atthe blood-stained fingers. "He did do his best. If only God Himselfwould give him his discharge!"

"Yes, " said Fris. "God will give him his discharge Himself, and hesees everything, you know, Ole. "

Some fishermen entered the room. They took off their caps, andone by one went quietly up and shook hands with Ole, and then, each passing his hand over his face, turned questioningly to theschoolmaster. Fris nodded, and they raised the dead body betweenthem, and passed with heavy, cautious steps out through the entryand on toward the village, Ole following them, bowed down andmoaning to himself. 

XVIII

It was Pelle who, one day in his first year at school, when he wasbeing questioned in Religion, and Fris asked him whether he couldgive the names of the three greatest festivals in the year, amusedevery one by answering: "Midsummer Eve, Harvest-home and--and----"There was a third, too, but when it came to the point, he was shyof mentioning it--his birthday! In certain ways it was the greatestof them all, even though no one but Father Lasse knew about it--andthe people who wrote the almanac, of course; they knew about simplyeverything!

It came on the twenty-sixth of June and was called Pelagius in thecalendar. In the morning his father kissed him and said: "Happinessand a blessing to you, laddie!" and then there was always somethingin his pocket when he came to pull on his trousers. His father wasjust as excited as he was himself, and waited by him while hedressed, to share in the surprise. But it was Pelle's way to spinthings out when something nice was coming; it made the pleasure allthe greater. He purposely passed over the interesting pocket, whileFather Lasse stood by fidgeting and not knowing what to do. 

"I say, what's the matter with that pocket? It looks to me so fat!You surely haven't been out stealing hens' eggs in the night?"

Then Pelle had to take it out--a large bundle of paper--and undoit, layer after layer. And Lasse would be amazed. 

"Pooh, it's nothing but paper! What rubbish to go and fill yourpockets with!" But in the very inside of all there was a pocket-knife with two blades. 

"Thank you!" whispered Pelle then, with tears in his eyes. 

"Oh, nonsense! It's a poor present, that!" said Lasse, blinkinghis red, lashless eyelids. 

Beyond this the boy did not come in for anything better on thatday than usual, but all the same he had a solemn feeling all day. The sun never failed to shine--was even unusually bright; and theanimals looked meaningly at him while they lay munching. "It's mybirthday to-day!" he said, hanging with his arms round the neck ofNero, one of the bullocks. "Can you say 'A happy birthday'?" AndNero breathed warm breath down his back, together with green juicefrom his chewing; and Pelle went about happy, and stole green cornto give to him and to his favorite calf, kept the new knife--orwhatever it might have been--in his hand the whole day long, anddwelt in a peculiarly solemn way upon everything he did. He couldmake the whole of the long day swell with a festive feeling; andwhen he went to bed he tried to keep awake so as to make the daylonger still. 

Nevertheless, Midsummer Eve was in its way a greater day; it hadat any rate the glamour of the unattainable over it. On that dayeverything that could creek and walk went up to the Common; therewas not a servant on the whole island so poor-spirited as to submitto the refusal of a holiday on that day--none except just Lasse andPelle. 

Every year they had seen the day come and go without sharing inits pleasure. "Some one must stay at home, confound it!" said thebailiff always. "Or perhaps you think I can do it all for you?"They had too little power to assert themselves. Lasse helped to packappetizing food and beverages into the carts, and see the others off, and then went about despondently--one man to all the work. Pellewatched from the field their merry departure and the white stripeof dust far away behind the rocks. And for half a year afterward, at meals, they heard reminiscences of drinking and fighting andlove-making--the whole festivity. 

But this was at an end. Lasse was not the man to continue to lethimself be trifled with. He possessed a woman's affection, and ahouse in the background. He could give notice any day he liked. The magistrate was presumably busy with the prescribed advertisingfor Madam Olsen's husband, and as soon as the lawful respite wasover, they would come together. 

Lasse no longer sought to avoid the risk of dismissal. As long agoas the winter, he had driven the bailiff into a corner, and onlyagreed to be taken on again upon the express condition that theyboth took part in the Midsummer Eve outing; and he had witnessesto it. On the Common, where all lovers held tryst that day, Lasseand she were to meet too, but of this Pelle knew nothing. 

"To-day we can say the day after to-morrow, and to-morrow we can sayto-morrow, " Pelle went about repeating to his father two eveningsbefore the day. He had kept an account of the time ever since MayDay, by making strokes for all the days on the inside of the lidof the chest, and crossing them out one by one. 

"Yes, and the day after to-morrow we shall say to-day, " said Lasse, with a juvenile fling. 

They opened their eyes upon an incomprehensibly brilliant world, and did not at first remember that this was the day. Lasse hadanticipated his wages to the amount of five krones, and had got anold cottager to do his work--for half a krone and his meals. "It'snot a big wage, " said the man; "but if I give you a hand, perhapsthe Almighty'll give me one in return. "

"Well, we've no one but Him to hold to, we poor creatures, " answeredLasse. "But I shall thank you in my grave. "

The cottager arrived by four o'clock, and Lasse was able to beginhis holiday from that hour. Whenever he was about to take a hand inthe work, the other said: "No, leave it alone! I'm sure you've notoften had a holiday. "

"No; this is the first real holiday since I came to the farm, " saidLasse, drawing himself up with a lordly air. 

Pelle was in his best clothes from the first thing in the morning, and went about smiling in his shirt-sleeves and with his hairplastered down with water; his best cap and jacket were not to beput on until they were going to start. When the sun shone upon hisface, it sparkled like dewy grass. There was nothing to troubleabout; the animals were in the enclosure and the bailiff was goingto look after them himself. 

He kept near his father, who had brought this about. Father Lassewas powerful! "What a good thing you threatened to leave!" he kepton exclaiming. And Lasse always gave the same answer: "Ay, you mustcarry things with a high hand if you want to gain anything in thisworld!"--and nodded with a consciousness of power. 

They were to have started at eight o'clock, but the girls couldnot get the provisions ready in time. There were jars of stewedgooseberries, huge piles of pancakes, a hard-boiled egg apiece, cold veal and an endless supply of bread and butter. The carriageboxes could not nearly hold it all, so large baskets were pushedin under the seats. In the front was a small cask of beer, coveredwith green oats to keep the sun from it; and there was a whole kegof spirits and three bottles of cold punch. Almost the entire bottomof the large spring-wagon was covered, so that it was difficult tofind room for one's feet. 

After all, Fru Kongstrup showed a proper feeling for her servantswhen she wanted to. She went about like a kind mistress and saw thateverything was well packed and that nothing was wanting. She was notlike Kongstrup, who always had to have a bailiff between himselfand them. She even joked and did her best, and it was evident thatwhatever else there might be to say against her, she wanted themto have a merry day. That her face was a little sad was not to bewondered at, as the farmer had driven out that morning with heryoung relative. 

At last the girls were ready, and every one got in--in high spirits. The men inadvertently sat upon the girls' laps and jumped up inalarm. "Oh, oh! I must have gone too near a stove!" cried the rogueMons, rubbing himself behind. Even the mistress could not helplaughing. 

"Isn't Erik going with us?" asked his old sweetheart Bengta, whostill had a warm spot in her heart for him. 

The bailiff whistled shrilly twice, and Erik came slowly up from thebarn, where he had been standing and keeping watch upon his master. 

"Won't you go with them to the woods to-day, Erik man?" asked thebailiff kindly. Erik stood twisting his big body and murmuringsomething that no one could understand, and then made an unwillingmovement with one shoulder. 

"You'd better go with them, " said the bailiff, pretending he wasgoing to take him and put him into the cart. "Then I shall haveto see whether I can get over the loss. "

Those in the cart laughed, but Erik shuffled off down through theyard, with his dog-like glance directed backward at the bailiff'sfeet, and stationed himself at the corner of the stable, where hestood watching. He held his cap behind his back, as boys do whenthey play at "Robbers. "

"He's a queer customer!" said Mons. Then Karl Johan guided thehorses carefully through the gate, and they set off with a crackof the whip. 

Along all the roads, vehicles were making their way toward thehighest part of the island, filled to overflowing with merry people, who sat on one another's laps and hung right over the sides. Thedust rose behind the conveyances and hung white in the air instripes miles in length, that showed how the roads lay like spokesin a wheel all pointing toward the middle of the island. The airhummed with merry voices and the strains of concertinas. They missedGustav's playing now--yes, and Bodil's pretty face, that alwaysshone so brightly on a day like this. 

Pelle had the appetite of years of fasting for the great world, and devoured everything with his eyes. "Look there, father! Justlook!" Nothing escaped him. It made the others cheerful to look athim--he was so rosy and pretty. He wore a newly-washed blue blouseunder his waistcoat, which showed at the neck and wrists and didduty as collar and cuffs; but Fair Maria bent back from the box-seat, where she was sitting alone with Karl Johan, and tied a very whitescarf round his neck, and Karna, who wanted to be motherly to him, went over his face with a corner of her pocket-handkerchief, whichshe moistened with her tongue. She was rather officious, but forthat matter it was quite conceivable that the boy might have gotdirty again since his thorough morning wash. 

The side roads continued to pour their contents out on to thehigh-roads, and there was soon a whole river of conveyances, extending as far as the eye could see in both directions. One wouldhardly have believed that there were so many vehicles in the wholeworld! Karl Johan was a good driver to have; he was always pointingwith his whip and telling them something. He knew all about everysingle house. They were beyond the farms and tillage by now; but onthe heath, where self-sown birch and aspen trees stood flutteringrestlessly in the summer air, there stood desolate new houses withbare, plastered walls, and not so much as a henbane in the windowor a bit of curtain. The fields round them were as stony as anewly-mended road, and the crops were a sad sight; the corn wasonly two or three inches in height, and already in ear. The peoplehere were all Swedish servants who had saved a little--and had nowbecome land-owners. Karl Johan knew a good many of them. 

"It looks very miserable, " said Lasse, comparing in his own mindthe stones here with Madam Olsen's fat land. 

"Oh, well, " answered the head man, "it's not of the very best, ofcourse; but the land yields something, anyhow. " And he pointed tothe fine large heaps of road-metal and hewn stone that surroundedevery cottage. "If it isn't exactly grain, it gives something tolive on; and then it's the only land that'll suit poor people'spurses. " He and Fair Maria were thinking of settling down herethemselves. Kongstrup had promised to help them to a farm with twohorses when they married. 

In the wood the birds were in the middle of their morning song; theywere later with it here than in the sandbanks plantation, it seemed. The air sparkled brightly, and something invisible seemed to risefrom the undergrowth; it was like being in a church with the sunshining down through tall windows and the organ playing. They droveround the foot of a steep cliff with overhanging trees, and intothe wood. 

It was almost impossible to thread your way through the crowd ofunharnessed horses and vehicles. You had to have all your wits aboutyou to keep from damaging your own and other people's things. KarlJohan sat watching both his fore wheels, and felt his way on stepby step; he was like a cat in a thunderstorm, he was so wary. "Holdyour jaw!" he said sharply, when any one in the cart opened his lips. At last they found room to unharness, and a rope was tied from treeto tree to form a square in which the horses were secured. Then theygot out the curry-combs--goodness, how dusty it had been! And atlast--well, no one said anything, but they all stood expectant, half turned in the direction of the head man. 

"Well, I suppose we ought to go into the wood and look at the view, "he said. 

They turned it over as they wandered aimlessly round the cart, looking furtively at the provisions. 

"If only it'll keep!" said Anders, lifting a basket. 

"I don't know how it is, but I feel so strange in my inside to-day, "Mons began. "It can't be consumption, can it?"

"Perhaps we ought to taste the good things first, then?" saidKarl Johan. 

Yes--oh, yes--it came at last!

Last year they had eaten their dinner on the grass. It was Bodil whohad thought of that; she was always a little fantastic. This yearnobody would be the one to make such a suggestion. They looked atone another a little expectant; and they then climbed up into thecart and settled themselves there just like other decent people. After all, the food was the same. 

The pancakes were as large and thick as a saucepan-lid. It remindedthem of Erik, who last year had eaten ten of them. 

"It's a pity he's not here this year!" said Karl Johan. "He wasa merry devil. "

"He's not badly off, " said Mons. "Gets his food and clothes givenhim, and does nothing but follow at the bailiff's heels and copyhim. And he's always contented now. I wouldn't a bit mind changingwith him. "

"And run about like a dog with its nose to the ground sniffing atits master's footsteps? Oh no, not I!"

"Whatever you may say, you must remember that it's the AlmightyHimself who's taken his wits into safekeeping, " said Lasseadmonishingly; and for a little while they were quite seriousat the thought. 

But seriousness could not claim more than was its due. Anders wantedto rub his leg, but made a mistake and caught hold of Lively Sara's, and made her scream; and this so flustered his hand that it couldnot find its way up, but went on making mistakes, and there was muchlaughter and merriment. 

Karl Johan was not taking much part in the hilarity; he looked as ifhe were pondering something. Suddenly he roused himself and drew outhis purse. "Here goes!" he said stoutly. "I'll stand beer! Bavarianbeer, of course. Who'll go and fetch it?"

Mons leaped quickly from the cart. "How many?"

"Four. " Karl Johan's eye ran calculating over the cart. "No; justbring five, will you? That'll be a half each, " he said easily. "Butmake sure that it's real Bavarian beer they give you. "

There was really no end to the things that Karl Johan knew about;and he said the name "Bavarian beer" with no more difficulty thanothers would have in turning a quid in their mouth. But of coursehe was a trusted man on the farm now and often drove on errandsinto the town. 

This raised their spirits and awakened curiosity, for most of themhad never tasted Bavarian beer before. Lasse and Pelle openlyadmitted their inexperience; but Anders pretended he had got drunkon it more than once, though every one knew it was untrue. 

Mons returned, moving cautiously, with the beer in his arms; it wasa precious commodity. They drank it out of the large dram-glassesthat were meant for the punch. In the town, of course, they drankbeer out of huge mugs, but Karl Johan considered that that wassimply swilling. The girls refused to drink, but did it after all, and were delighted. "They're always like that, " said Mons, "whenyou offer them something really good. " They became flushed with theexcitement of the occurrence, and thought they were drunk. Lassetook away the taste of his beer with a dram; he did not like it atall. "I'm too old, " he said, in excuse. 

The provisions were packed up again, and they set out in a body tosee the view. They had to make their way through a perfect forestof carts to reach the pavilion. Horses were neighing and flingingup their hind legs, so that the bark flew off the trees. Men hurledthemselves in among them, and tugged at their mouths until theyquieted down again, while the women screamed and ran hither andthither like frightened hens, with skirts lifted. 

From the top they could form some idea of the number of people. Onthe sides of the hill and in the wood beyond the roads--everywherecarts covered the ground; and down at the triangle where the twowide high-roads met, new loads were continually turning in. "Theremust be far more than a thousand pairs of horses in the wood to-day, "said Karl Johan. Yes, far more! There were a million, if not more, thought Pelle. He was quite determined to get as much as possibleout of everything to-day. 

There stood the Bridge Farm cart, and there came the people fromHammersholm, right out at the extreme north of the island. Herewere numbers of people from the shore farms at Dove Point and Ronneand Nekso--the whole island was there. But there was no time nowto fall in with acquaintances. "We shall meet this afternoon!" wasthe general cry. 

Karl Johan led the expedition; it was one of a head man's dutiesto know the way about the Common. Fair Maria kept faithfully by hisside, and every one could see how proud she was of him. Mons walkedhand in hand with Lively Sara, and they went swinging along like acouple of happy children. Bengta and Anders had some difficulty inagreeing; they quarrelled every other minute, but they did not meanmuch by it. And Karna made herself agreeable. 

They descended into a swamp, and went up again by a steep ascentwhere the great trees stood with their feet in one another's necks. Pelle leaped about everywhere like a young kid. In under the firsthere were anthills as big as haycocks, and the ants had broadtrodden paths running like foothpaths between the trees, on andon endlessly; a multitude of hosts passed backward and forwardupon those roads. Under some small fir-trees a hedgehog was busyattacking a wasps' nest; it poked its nose into the nest, drew itquickly back, and sneezed. It looked wonderfully funny, but Pellehad to go on after the others. And soon he was far ahead of them, lying on his face in a ditch where he had smelt wild strawberries. 

Lasse could not keep pace with the younger people up the hill, andit was not much better with Karna. "We're getting old, we two, " shesaid, as they toiled up, panting. 

"Oh, are we?" was Lasse's answer. He felt quite young in spirit;it was only breath that he was short of. 

"I expect you think very much as I do; when you've worked for othersfor so many years, you feel you want something of your own. "

"Yes, perhaps, " said Lasse evasively. 

"One wouldn't come to it quite empty-handed, either--if it shouldhappen. "

"Oh, indeed!"

Karna continued in this way, but Lasse was always sparing with hiswords, until they arrived at the Rockingstone, where the others werestanding waiting. That was a block and a half! Fifty tons it wassaid to weigh, and yet Mons and Anders could rock it by puttinga stick under one end of it. 

"And now we ought to go to the Robbers' Castle, " said Karl Johan, and they trudged on, always up and down. Lasse did his utmost tokeep beside the others, for he did not feel very brave when hewas alone with Karna. What a fearful quantity of trees there were!And not all of one sort, as in other parts of the world. Therewere birches and firs, beech and larch and mountain ash all mixedtogether, and ever so many cherry-trees. The head man lead themacross a little, dark lake that lay at the foot of the rock, staringup like an evil eye. "It was here that Little Anna drowned her baby--she that was betrayed by her master, " he said lingeringly. Theyall knew the story, and stood silent over the lake; the girls hadtears in their eyes. 

As they stood there silent, thinking of Little Anna's sad fate, an unspeakably soft note came up to them, followed by a long, affecting sobbing. They moved nearer to one another. "Oh, Lord!"whispered Fair Maria, shivering. "That's the baby's soul crying!"Pelle stiffened as he listened, and cold waves seemed to flow downhis back. 

"Why, that's a nightingale, " said Karl Johan, "Don't you even knowthat? There are hundreds of them in these woods, and they sing inthe middle of the day. " This was a relief to the older people, butPelle's horror was not so easily thrown off. He had gazed into thedepths of the other world, and every explanation glanced off him. 

But then came the Robbers' Castle as a great disappointment. He hadimagined it peopled with robbers, and it was only some old ruinsthat stood on a little hill in the middle of a bog. He went byhimself all round the bottom of it to see if there were not a secretunderground passage that led down to the water. If there were, hewould get hold of his father without letting the others know, andmake his way in and look for the chests of money; or else therewould be too many to share in it. But this was forgotten as apeculiar scent arrested his attention, and he came upon a piece ofground that was green with lily-of-the-valley plants that still borea few flowers, and where there were wild strawberries. There were somany that he had to go and call the others. 

But this was also forgotten as he made his way through the underwoodto get up. He had lost the path and gone astray in the damp, chillydarkness under the cliff. Creeping plants and thorns wove themselvesin among the overhanging branches, and made a thick, low roof. Hecould not see an opening anywhere, and a strange green light camethrough the matted branches, the ground was slippery with moistureand decaying substances; from the cliff hung quivering fern-frondswith their points downward, and water dripping from them like wethair. Huge tree-roots, like the naked bodies of black goblinswrithing to get free, lay stretched across the rocks. A littlefurther on, the sun made a patch of burning fire in the darkness, and beyond it rose a bluish vapor and a sound as of a distantthreshing-machine. 

Pelle stood still, and his terror grew until his knees trembled;then he set off running as if he were possessed. A thousand shadow-hands stretched out after him as he ran; and he pushed his waythrough briars and creepers with a low cry. The daylight met himwith the force of a blow, and something behind him had a firm graspon his clothes; he had to shout for Father Lasse with all his mightbefore it let go. 

And there he stood right out in the bog, while high up abovehis head the others sat, upon a point of rock all among the trees. From up there it looked as if the world were all tree-tops, risingand falling endlessly; there was foliage far down beneath yourfeet and out as far as the eye could see, up and down. You werealmost tempted to throw yourself into it, it looked so invitinglysoft. As a warning to the others, Karl Johan had to tell themabout the tailor's apprentice, who jumped out from a projectingrock here, just because the foliage looked so temptingly soft, Strange to say, he escaped with his life; but the high tree hefell through stripped him of every stitch of clothing. 

Mons had been teasing Sara by saying that he was going to jumpdown, but now he drew back cautiously. "I don't want to risk myconfirmation clothes, " he said, trying to look good. 

After all, the most remarkable thing of all was the Horseman Hillwith the royal monument. The tower alone! Not a bit of wood hadbeen used in it, only granite; and you went round and round andround. "You're counting the steps, I suppose?" said Karl Johanadmonishingly. Oh, yes, they were all counting to themselves. 

It was clear weather, and the island lay spread out beneath them inall its luxuriance. The very first thing the men wanted to do was totry what it was like to spit down; but the girls were giddy and kepttogether in a cluster in the middle of the platform. The churcheswere counted under Karl Johan's able guidance, and all the well-known places pointed out. "There's Stone Farm, too, " said Anders, pointing to something far off toward the sea. It was not Stone Farm, but Karl Johan could say to a nicety behind which hill it ought tolie, and then they recognized the quarries. 

Lasse took no part in this. He stood quite still, gazing at the blueline of the Swedish coast that stood out far away upon the shiningwater. The sight of his native land made him feel weak and old; hewould probably never go home again, although he would have dearlyliked to see Bengta's grave once more. Ah yes, and the best thatcould happen to one would be to be allowed to rest by her side, wheneverything else was ended. At this moment he regretted that he hadgone into exile in his old age. He wondered what Kungstorp lookedlike now, whether the new people kept the land cultivated at all. And all the old acquaintances--how were they getting on? Hisold-man's reminiscences came over him so strongly that for a timehe forgot Madam Olsen and everything about her. He allowed himselfto be lulled by past memories, and wept in his heart like a littlechild. Ah! it was dreary to live away from one's native place andeverything in one's old age; but if it only brought a blessing onthe laddie in some way or other, it was all as it should be. 

"I suppose that's the King's Copenhagen [Footnote: Country-peoplespeak of Copenhagen as "the King's Copehagen. "] we see over there?"asked Anders. 

"It's Sweden, " said Lasse quietly. 

"Sweden, is it? But it lay on that side last year, if I rememberrightly. "

"Yes, of course! What else should the world go round for?" exclaimedMons. 

Anders was just about to take this in all good faith when he caughta grimace that Mons made to the others. "Oh, you clever monkey!" hecried, and sprang at Mons, who dashed down the stone stairs; and thesound of their footsteps came up in a hollow rumble as out of a hugecask. The girls stood leaning against one another, rocking gentlyand gazing silently at the shining water that lay far away roundthe island. The giddiness had made them languid. 

"Why, your eyes are quite dreamy!" said Karl Johan, trying to takethem all into his embrace. "Aren't you coming down with us?"

They were all fairly tired now. No one said anything, for of courseKarl Johan was leading; but the girls showed an inclination to sitdown. 

"Now there's only the Echo Valley left, " he said encouragingly, "and that's on our way back. We must do that, for it's well worthit. You'll hear an echo there that hasn't its equal anywhere. "

They went slowly, for their feet were tender with the leather bootsand much aimless walking; but when they had come down the steepcliff into the valley and had drunk from the spring, they brightenedup. Karl Johan stationed himself with legs astride, and calledacross to the cliff: "What's Karl Johan's greatest treat?" And theecho answered straight away: "Eat!" It was exceedingly funny, andthey all had to try it, each with his or her name--even Pelle. Whenthat was exhausted, Mons made up a question which made the echo givea rude answer. 

"You mustn't teach it anything like that, " said Lasse. "Just supposesome fine ladies were to come here, and he started calling that outafter them?" They almost killed themselves with laughing at the oldman's joke, and he was so delighted at the applause that he went onrepeating it to himself on the way back. Ha, ha! he wasn't quitefit for the scrap-heap yet. 

When they got back to the cart they were ravenously hungry andsettled down to another meal. "You must have something to keep youup when you're wandering about like this, " said Mons. 

"Now then, " said Karl Johan, when they had finished, "every one maydo what they like; but at nine sharp we meet here again and drivehome. "

Up on the open ground, Lasse gave Pelle a secret nudge, and theybegan to do business with a cake-seller until the others had gotwell ahead. "It's not nice being third wheel in a carriage, " saidLasse. "We two'll go about by ourselves for a little now. "

Lasse was craning his neck. "Are you looking for any one?" askedPelle. 

"No, no one in particular; but I was wondering where all thesepeople come from. There are people from all over the country, but I haven't seen any one from the village yet. "

"Don't you think Madam Olsen'll be here to-day?"

"Can't say, " said Lasse; "but it would be nice to see her, andthere's something I want to say to her, too. Your eyes areyoung; you must keep a lookout. "

Pelle was given fifty ore to spend on whatever he liked. Round theground sat the poor women of the Heath at little stalls, from whichthey sold colored sugar-sticks, gingerbread and two-ore cigars. Inthe meantime he went from woman to woman, and bought of each forone or two ore. 

Away under the trees stood blind Hoyer, who had come straight fromCopenhagen with new ballads. There was a crowd round him. He playedthe tune upon his concertina, his little withered wife sang to it, and the whole crowd sang carefully with her. Those who had learntthe tunes went away singing, and others pushed forward into theirplace and put down their five-ore piece. 

Lasse and Pelle stood on the edge of the crowd listening. Therewas no use in paying money before you knew what you would get forit; and anyhow the songs would be all over the island by to-morrow, and going gratis from mouth to mouth. "A Man of Eighty--a new andpleasant ballad about how things go when a decrepit old man takesa young wife!" shouted Hoyer in a hoarse voice, before the songbegan. Lasse didn't care very much about that ballad; but then camea terribly sad one about the sailor George Semon, who took a mosttender farewell of his sweetheart--

 "And said, When here I once more stand, We to the church will go hand in hand. "

But he never did come back, for the storm was over them forforty-five days, provisions ran short, and the girl's lover wentmad. He drew his knife upon the captain, and demanded to be takenhome to his bride; and the captain shot him down. Then the othersthrew themselves upon the corpse, carried it to the galley, andmade soup of it. 

 "The girl still waits for her own true love, Away from the shore she will not move. Poor maid, she's hoping she still may wed, And does not know that her lad is dead. "

"That's beautiful, " said Lasse, rummaging in his purse for afive-ore. "You must try to learn that; you've got an ear for thatsort of thing. " They pushed through the crowd right up to themusician, and began cautiously to sing too, while the girls allround were sniffing. 

They wandered up and down among the trees, Lasse rather fidgety. There was a whole street of dancing-booths, tents with conjurers andpanorama-men, and drinking-booths. The criers were perspiring, therefreshment sellers were walking up and down in front of their tentslike greedy beasts of prey. Things had not got into full swing yet, for most of the people were still out and about seeing the sights, or amusing themselves in all seemliness, exerting themselves intrials of strength or slipping in and out of the conjurers' tents. There was not a man unaccompanied by a woman. Many a one came to astand at the refreshment-tents, but the woman pulled him past; thenhe would yawn and allow himself to be dragged up into a roundaboutor a magic-lantern tent where the most beautiful pictures were shownof the way that cancer and other horrible things made havoc inpeople's insides. 

"These are just the things for the women, " said Lasse, breathingforth a sigh at haphazard after Madam Olsen. On a horse on Madvig'sroundabout sat Gustav with his arm round Bodil's waist. "Hey, oldman!" he cried, as they whizzed past, and flapped Lasse on the earwith his cap, which had the white side out. They were as radiantas the day and the sun, those two. 

Pelle wanted to have a turn on a roundabout. "Then blest if I won'thave something too, that'll make things go round!" said Lasse, andwent in and had a "cuckoo"--coffee with brandy in it. "There aresome people, " he said, when he came out again, "that can go fromone tavern to another without its making any difference in theirpurse. It would be nice to try--only for a year. Hush!" Over by MaxAlexander's "Green House" stood Karna, quite alone and looking abouther wistfully. Lasse drew Pelle round in a wide circle. 

"There's Madam Olsen with a strange man!" said Pelle suddenly. 

Lasse started. "Where?" Yes, there she stood, and had a man withher! And talking so busily! They went past her without stopping;she could choose for herself, then. 

"Hi, can't you wait a little!" cried Madam Olsen, running after themso that her petticoats crackled round her. She was round and smilingas usual, and many layers of good home-woven material stood outabout her; there was no scrimping anywhere. 

They went on together, talking on indifferent matters and now andthen exchanging glances about the boy who was in their way. They hadto walk so sedately without venturing to touch one another. He didnot like any nonsense. 

It was black with people now up at the pavilion, and one couldhardly move a step without meeting acquaintances. "It's even worsethan a swarm of bees, " said Lasse. "It's not worth trying to getin there. " At one place the movement was outward, and by followingit they found themselves in a valley, where a man stood shoutingand beating his fists upon a platform. It was a missionary meeting. The audience lay encamped in small groups, up the slopes, and a manin long black clothes went quietly from group to group, sellingleaflets. His face was white, and he had a very long, thin redbeard. 

"Do you see that man?" whispered Lasse, giving Pelle a nudge. "Uponmy word, if it isn't Long Ole--and with a glove on his injured hand. It was him that had to take the sin upon him for Per Olsen's falseswearing!" explained Lasse, turning to Madam Olsen. "He was standingat the machine at the time when Per Olsen ought to have paid thepenalty with his three fingers, and so his went instead. He may beglad of the mistake after all, for they say he's risen to greatthings among the prayer-meeting folks. And his complexion's as fineas a young lady's--something different to what it was when he wascarting manure at Stone Farm! It'll be fun to say good-day to himagain. "

Lasse was quite proud of having served together with this man, and stationed himself in front of the others, intending to make animpression upon his lady friend by saying a hearty: "Good-day, Ole!"Long Ole was at the next group, and now he came on to them and wasgoing to hold out his tracts, when a glance at Lasse made him dropboth hand and eyes; and with a deep sigh he passed on with bowedhead to the next group. 

"Did you see how he turned his eyes up?" said Lasse derisively. "When beggars come to court, they don't know how to behave! He'd gota watch in his pocket, too, and long clothes; and before he hadn'teven a shirt to his body. And an ungodly devil he was too! But theold gentleman looks after his own, as the saying is; I expect it'shim that helped him on by changing places at the machine. The waythey've cheated the Almighty's enough to make Him weep!"

Madam Olsen tried to hush Lasse, but the "cuckoo" rose within himtogether with his wrath, and he continued: "So _he's_ aboverecognizing decent people who get what they have in an honorableway, and not by lying and humbug! They do say he makes love to allthe farmers' wives wherever he goes; but there was a time when hehad to put up with the Sow. "

People began to look at them, and Madam Olsen took Lasse firmly bythe arm and drew him away. 

The sun was now low in the sky. Up on the open ground the crowdstramped round and round as if in a tread-mill. Now and then adrunken man reeled along, making a broad path for himself throughthe crush. The noise came seething up from the tents--barrel-organseach grinding out a different tune, criers, the bands of the variousdancing-booths, and the measured tread of a schottische or polka. The women wandered up and down in clusters, casting long looks intothe refreshment-tents where their men were sitting; and some of themstopped at the tent-door and made coaxing signs to some one inside. 

Under the trees stood a drunken man, pawing at a tree-trunk, andbeside him stood a girl, crying with her black damask apron to hereyes. Pelle watched them for a long time. The man's clothes weredisordered, and he lurched against the girl with a foolish grinwhen she, in the midst of her tears, tried to put them straight. When Pelle turned away, Lasse and Madam Olsen had disappeared inthe crowd. 

They must have gone on a little, and he went down to the very endof the street. Then he turned despondingly and went up, burrowingthis way and that in the stream of people, with eyes everywhere. "Haven't you seen Father Lasse?" he asked pitifully, when he metany one he knew. 

In the thickest of the crush, a tall man was moving along, holdingforth blissfully at the top of his voice. He was a head taller thananybody else, and very broad; but he beamed with good-nature, andwanted to embrace everybody. People ran screaming out of his way, so that a broad path was left wherever he went. Pelle kept behindhim, and thus succeeded in getting through the thickest crowds, where policemen and rangers were stationed with thick cudgels. Their eyes and ears were on the watch, but they did not interferein anything. It was said that they had handcuffs in their pockets. 

Pelle had reached the road in his despairing search. Cart after cartwas carefully working its way out through the gloom under the trees, then rolling out into the dazzling evening light, and on to thehigh-road with much cracking of whips. They were the prayer-meetingpeople driving home. 

He happened to think of the time, and asked a man what it was. Nine!Pelle had to run so as not to be too late in getting to the cart. In the cart sat Karl Johan and Fair Maria eating. "Get up and havesomething to eat!" they said, and as Pelle was ravenous, he forgoteverything while he ate. But then Johan asked about Lasse, and historment returned. 

Karl Johan was cross; not one had returned to the cart, althoughit was the time agreed upon. "You'd better keep close to us now, "he said, as they went up, "or you might get killed. "

Up at the edge of the wood they met Gustav running. "Have noneof you seen Bodil?" he asked, gasping. His clothes were torn andthere was blood on the front of his shirt. He ran on groaning, anddisappeared under the trees. It was quite dark there, but the openground lay in a strange light that came from nowhere, but seemedto have been left behind by the day as it fled. Faces out thereshowed up, some in ghostly pallor, some black like holes in thelight, until they suddenly burst forth, crimson with blood-redflame. 

The people wandered about in confused groups, shouting and screamingat the top of their voices. Two men came along with arms twinedaffectionately round one another's necks, and the next moment layrolling on the ground in a fight. Others joined the fray and tooksides without troubling to discover what it was all about, and thecontest became one large struggling heap. Then the police came up, and hit about them with their sticks; and those who did not run awaywere handcuffed and thrown into an empty stable. 

Pelle was quite upset, and kept close to Karl Johan; he jumpedevery time a band approached, and kept on saying in a whimperingtone: "Where's Father Lasse? Let's go and find him. "

"Oh, hold your tongue!" exclaimed the head man, who was standing andtrying to catch sight of his fellow-servants. He was angry at thisuntrustworthiness. "Don't stand there crying! You'd do much moregood if you ran down to the cart and see whether any one's come. "

Pelle had to go, little though he cared to venture in under thetrees. The branches hung silently listening, but the noise fromthe open ground came down in bursts, and in the darkness under thebushes living things rustled about and spoke in voices of joy orsorrow. A sudden scream rang through the wood, and made his kneesknock together. 

Karna sat at the back of the cart asleep, and Bengta stood leaningagainst the front seat, weeping. "They've locked Anders up, " shesobbed. "He got wild, so they put handcuffs on him and lockedhim up. " She went back with Pelle. 

Lasse was with Karl Johan and Fair Maria; he looked defiantly atPelle, and in his half-closed eyes there was a little mutinousgleam. 

"Then now there's only Mons and Lively Sara, " said Karl Johan, as he ran his eye over them. 

"But what about Anders?" sobbed Bengta. "You surely won't driveaway without Anders?"

"There's nothing can he done about Anders!" said the head man. "He'll come of his own accord when once he's let out. "

They found out on inquiry that Mons and Lively Sara were down in oneof the dancing-booths, and accordingly went down there. "Now youstay here!" said Karl Johan sternly, and went in to take a surveyof the dancers. In there blood burnt hot, and faces were like ballsof fire that made red circles in the blue mist of perspiring heatand dust. Dump! Dump! Dump! The measure fell booming like heavyblows; and in the middle of the floor stood a man and wrung themoisture out of his jacket. 

Out of one of the dancing-tents pushed a big fellow with two girls. He had an arm about the neck of each, and they linked arms behindhis back. His cap was on the back of his head, and his riotous moodwould have found expression in leaping, if he had not felt himselftoo pleasantly encumbered; so he opened his mouth wide, and shoutedjoyfully, so that it rang again: "Devil take me! Deuce take me!Seven hundred devils take me!" and disappeared under the trees withhis girls. 

"That was Per Olsen himself, " said Lasse, looking after him. "Whata man, to be sure! He certainly doesn't look as if he bore any debtof sin to the Almighty. "

"His time may still come, " was the opinion of Karl Johan. 

Quite by chance they found Mons and Lively Sara sitting asleepin one another's arms upon a bench under the trees. 

"Well, now, I suppose we ought to be getting home?" said Karl Johanslowly. He had been doing right for so long that his throat wasquite dry. "I suppose none of you'll stand a farewell glass?"

"I will!" said Mons, "if you'll go up to the pavilion with me todrink it. " Mons had missed something by going to sleep and had adesire to go once round the ground. Every time a yell reached themhe gave a leap as he walked beside Lively Sara, and answered witha long halloo. He tried to get away, but she clung to his arm; sohe swung the heavy end of his loaded stick and shouted defiantly. Lasse kicked his old limbs and imitated Mons's shouts, for hetoo was for anything rather than going home; but Karl Johan wasdetermined--they _were_ to go now! And in this he wassupported by Pelle and the women. 

Out on the open ground a roar made them stop, and the women goteach behind her man. A man came running bareheaded and with a largewound in his temple, from which the blood flowed down over his faceand collar. His features were distorted with fear. Behind him camea second, also bareheaded, and with a drawn knife. A ranger triedto bar his way, but received a wound in his shoulder and fell, andthe pursuer ran on. As he passed them, Mons uttered a short yell andsprang straight up into the air, bringing down his loaded stick uponthe back of the man's neck. The man sank to the ground with a grunt, and Mons slipped in among the groups of people and disappeared; andthe others found him waiting for them at the edge of the wood. Hedid not answer any more yells. 

Karl Johan had to lead the horses until they got out onto the road, and then they all got in. Behind them the noise had become lost, and only one long cry for help rang through the air and droppedagain. 

Down by a little lake, some forgotten girls had gathered on thegrass and were playing by themselves. The white mist lay over thegrass like a shining lake, and only the upper part of the girls'bodies rose above it. They were walking round in a ring, singingthe mid-summer's-night song. Pure and clear rose the merry song, and yet was so strangely sad to listen to, because they who sangit had been left in the lurch by sots and brawlers. 

 "We will dance upon hill and meadow, We will wear out our shoes and stockings. Heigh ho, my little sweetheart fair, We shall dance till the sun has risen high. Heigh ho, my queen! Now we have danced upon the green. "

The tones fell so gently upon the ear and mind that memories andthoughts were purified of all that had been hideous, and the dayitself could appear in its true colors as a joyful festival. ForLasse and Pelle, indeed, it had been a peerless day, making up formany years of neglect. The only pity was that it was over insteadof about to begin. 

The occupants of the cart were tired now, some nodding and allsilent. Lasse sat working about in his pocket with one hand. Hewas trying to obtain an estimate of the money that remained. It wasexpensive to keep a sweetheart when you did not want to be outdoneby younger men in any way. Pelle was asleep, and was slippingfarther and farther down until Bengta took his head onto her lap. She herself was weeping bitterly about Anders. 

The daylight was growing rapidly brighter as they drove in toStone Farm. 

XIX

The master and mistress of Stone Farm were almost always the subjectof common talk, and were never quite out of the thoughts of thepeople. There was as much thought and said about Kongstrup and hiswife as about all the rest of the parish put together; they werebread to so many, their Providence both in evil and good, thatnothing that they did could be immaterial. 

No one ever thought of weighing them by the same standards asthey used for others; they were something apart, beings who wereendowed with great possessions, and could do and be as they liked, disregarding all considerations and entertaining all passions. Allthat came from Stone Farm was too great for ordinary mortals to sitin judgment upon; it was difficult enough to explain what went on, even when at such close quarters with it all as were Lasse and Pelle. To them as to the others, the Stone Farm people were beings apart, who lived their life under greater conditions, beings, as it were, halfway between the human and the supernatural, in a world wheresuch things as unquenchable passion and frenzied love wrought havoc. 

What happened, therefore, at Stone Farm supplied more excitementthan the other events of the parish. People listened with open-mouthed interest to the smallest utterance from the big house, and when the outbursts came, trembled and went about oppressed anduncomfortable. No matter how clearly Lasse, in the calm periods, might think he saw it all, the life up there would suddenly bedragged out of its ordinary recognized form again, and wrap itselfaround his and the boy's world like a misty sphere in whichcapricious powers warred--just above their heads. 

It was now Jomfru Koller's second year at the farm, in spite ofall evil prophecies; and indeed things had turned out in such away that every one had to own that his prognostications had beenwrong. She was always fonder of driving with Kongstrup to thetown than of staying at home to cheer Fru Kongstrup up in herloneliness; but such is youth. She behaved properly enoughotherwise, and it was well known that Kongstrup had returned tohis old hotel-sweethearting in the town. Fru Kongstrup herself, moreover, showed no distrust of her young relative--if she hadever felt any. She was as kind to her as if she had been her owndaughter; and very often it was she herself who got Jomfru Kollerto go in the carriage to look after her husband. 

Otherwise the days passed as usual, and Fru Kongstrup wascontinually giving herself up to little drinking-bouts and to grief. At such times she would weep over her wasted life; and if he wereat home would follow him with her accusations from room to room, until he would order the carriage and take flight, even in themiddle of the night. The walls were so saturated with her voicethat it penetrated through everything like a sorrowful, dulldroning. Those who happened to be up at night to look after animalsor the like, could hear her talking incessantly up there, even ifshe were alone. 

But then Jomfru Koller began to talk of going away. She suddenly gotthe idea that she wanted to go to Copenhagen and learn something, so that she could earn her own living. It sounded strange, as therewas every prospect of her some day inheriting the farmer's property. Fru Kongstrup was quite upset at the thought of losing her, andaltogether forgot her other troubles in continually talking to herabout it. Even when everything was settled, and they were standingin the mangling-room with the maids, getting Jomfru Koller's thingsready for her journey, she still kept on--to no earthly purpose. Like all the Stone Farm family, she could never let go anythingshe had once got hold of. 

There was something strange about Jomfru Koller's obstinacy ofpurpose; she was not even quite sure what she was going to do overthere. "I suppose she's going over to learn cooking, " said one andanother with a covert smile. 

Fru Kongstrup herself had no suspicion. She, who was alwayssuspecting something, seemed to be blind here. It must have beenbecause she had such complete trust in Jomfru Koller, and thoughtso much of her. She had not even time to sigh, so busy was she inputting everything into good order. Much need there was for it, too;Jomfru Koller must have had her head full of very different things, judging from the condition her clothes were in. 

"I'm glad Kongstrup's going over with her, " said Fru Kongstrupto Fair Maria one evening when they were sitting round the bigdarning-basket, mending the young lady's stockings after the wash. "They say Copenhagen's a bad town for inexperienced young peopleto come to. But Sina'll get on all right, for she's got the goodstock of the Kollers in her. " She said it all with such childishsimplicity; you could tramp in and out of her heart with greatwooden shoes on, suspicious though she was. "Perhaps we'll comeover to see you at Christmas, Sina, " she added in the goodness ofher heart. 

Jomfru Koller opened her mouth and caught her breath in terror, butdid not answer. She bent over her work and did not look at any oneall the evening. She never looked frankly at any one now. "She'sashamed of her deceitfulness!" they said. The judgment would fallupon her; she ought to have known what she was doing, and not gonebetween the bark and the wood, especially here where one of themtrusted her entirely. 

In the upper yard the new man Paer was busy getting the closedcarriage ready. Erik stood beside him idle. He looked unhappy andtroubled, poor fellow, as he always did when he was not near thebailiff. Each time a wheel had to come off or be put on, he had toput his giant's back under the big carriage and lift it. Every nowand then Lasse came to the stable-door to get an idea of what wasgoing on. Pelle was at school, it being the first day of the newhalf-year. 

She was going away to-day, the false wretch who had let herself bedrawn into deceiving one who had been a mother to her! Fru Kongstrupmust be going with them down to the steamer, as the closed carriagewas going. 

Lasse went into the bedroom to arrange one or two things so thathe could slip out in the evening without Pelle noticing it. He hadgiven Pelle a little paper of sweets for Madam Olsen, and on thepaper he had drawn a cross with a lead button; and the cross meantin all secrecy that he would come to her that evening. 

While he took out his best clothes and hid them under some hay closeto the outer door, he hummed:--

 "Love's longing so strong It helped me along, And the way was made short with the nightingales' song. "

He was looking forward so immensely to the evening; he had not beenalone with her now for nearly a quarter of a year. He was proud, moreover, of having taken writing into his service, and that awriting that Pelle, quick reader of writing though he was, wouldnot be able to make out. 

While the others were taking their after-dinner nap, Lasse went outand tidied up the dung-heap. The carriage was standing up there withone large trunk strapped on behind, and another standing on one edgeon the box. Lasse wondered what such a girl would do when she wasalone out in the wide world and had to pay the price of her sin. He supposed there must be places where they took in such girls inreturn for good payment; everything could be got over there!

Johanna Pihl came waddling in at the gate up there. Lasse startedwhen he saw her; she never came for any good. When she boldlyexhibited herself here, she was always drunk, and then she stoppedat nothing. It was sad to see how low misfortune could drag a woman. Lasse could not help thinking what a pretty girl she had been inher youth. And now all she thought of was making money out of hershame! He cautiously withdrew into the stable, so as not to be aneye-witness to anything, and peered out from there. 

The Sow went up and down in front of the windows, and called ina thick voice, over which she had not full command: "Kongstrup, Kongstrup! Come out and let me speak to you. You must let me havesome money, for your son and I haven't had any food for three days. "

"That's a wicked lie!" said Lasse to himself indignantly, "for shehas a good income. But she wastes God's gifts, and now she's out todo some evil. " He would have liked to take the fork and chase herout through the gate, but it was not well to expose one's self toher venomous tongue. 

She had her foot upon the step, but did not dare to mount. Fuddledthough she was, there was something that kept her in check. Shestood there groping at the handrail and mumbling to herself, andevery now and then lifting her fat face and calling Kongstrup. 

Jomfru Koller came inadvertently up from the basement, and wenttoward the steps; her eyes were on the ground, and she did not seethe Sow until it was too late, and then she turned quickly. JohannaPihl stood grinning. 

"Come here, miss, and let me wish you good-day!" she cried. "You'retoo grand, are you? But the one may be just as good as the other!Perhaps it's because you can drive away in a carriage and have yourson the other side of the sea, while I had mine in a beet-field! Butis that anything to be proud of? I say, just go up and tell my finegentleman that his eldest's starving! I daren't go myself because ofthe evil eye. "

Long before this Jomfru Koller was down in the basement again, butJohanna Pihl continued to stand and say the same thing over andover again, until the bailiff came dashing out toward her, whenshe retired, scolding, from the yard. 

The men had been aroused before their time by her screaming, andstood drowsily watching behind the barn-doors. Lasse kept excitedwatch from the stable, and the girls had collected in the wash-house. What would happen now? They all expected some terrible outbreak. 

But nothing happened. Now, when Fru Kongstrup had the right to shakeheaven and earth--so faithlessly had they treated her--now she wassilent. The farm was as peaceful as on the days when they had cometo a sort of understanding, and Kongstrup kept himself quiet. FruKongstrup passed the windows up there, and looked just like anybodyelse. Nothing happened!

Something must have been said, however, for the young lady hada very tear-stained face when they got into the carriage, andKongstrup wore his confused air. Then Karl Johan drove away withthe two; and the mistress did not appear. She was probably ashamedfor what concerned the others. 

Nothing had happened to relieve the suspense; it oppressed every one. She must have accepted her unhappy lot, and given up standing outfor her rights, now, just when every one would have supported her. This tranquillity was so unnatural, so unreasonable, that it madeone melancholy and low-spirited. It was as though others weresuffering on her behalf, and she herself had no heart. 

But then it broke down, and the sound of weeping began to ooze outover the farm, quiet and regular like flowing heart's blood. Allthe evening it flowed; the weeping had never sounded so despairing;it went to the hearts of all. She had taken in the poor child andtreated her as her own, and the poor child had deceived her. Everyone felt how she must suffer. 

During the night the weeping rose to cries so heart-rending thatthey awakened even Pelle--wet with perspiration. "It sounds likesome one in the last agonies!" said Lasse, and hastily drew on histrousers with trembling, clumsy hands. "She surely hasn't laid handsupon herself?" He lighted the lantern and went out into the stable, Pelle following naked. 

Then suddenly the cries ceased, as abruptly as if the sound had beencut off with an axe, and the silence that followed said dumbly thatit was forever. The farm sank into the darkness of night like anextinguished world. "Our mistress is dead!" said Lasse, shiveringand moving his fingers over his lips. "May God receive her kindly!"They crept fearfully into bed. 

But when they got up the next morning, the farm looked as it alwaysdid, and the maids were chattering and making as much noise asusual in the wash-house. A little while after, the mistress's voicewas heard up there, giving directions about the work. "I don'tunderstand it, " said Lasse, shaking his head. "Nothing but deathcan stop anything so suddenly. She must have a tremendous powerover herself!"

It now became apparent what a capable woman she was. She had notwasted anything in the long period of idleness; the maids becamebrisker and the fare better. One day she came to the cow-stable tosee that the milking was done cleanly. She gave every one his due, too. One day they came from the quarry and complained that they hadhad no wages for three weeks. There was not enough money on thefarm. "Then we must get some, " said the mistress, and they had toset about threshing at once. And one day when Karna raised too manyobjections she received a ringing box on the ear. 

"It's a new nature she's got, " said Lasse. But the old workpeoplerecognized several things from their young days. "It's her family'snature, " they said. "She's a regular Koller. "

The time passed without any change; she was as constant in hertranquillity as she had before been constant in her misery. It wasnot the habit of the Kollers to change their minds once they hadmade them up about anything. Then Kongstrup came home from hisjourney. She did not drive out to meet him, but was on the stepsto greet him, gentle and kind. Everybody could see how pleased andsurprised he was. He must have expected a very different reception. 

But during the night, when they were all sound asleep, Karnacame knocking at the men's window. "Get up and fetch the doctor!"she cried, "and be quick!" The call sounded like one of life anddeath, and they turned out headlong. Lasse, who was in the habitof sleeping with one eye open, like the hens, was the first man onthe spot, and had got the horses out of the stable; and in a fewminutes Karl Johan was driving out at the gate. He had a man withhim to hold the lantern. It was pitch-dark, but they could hear thecarriage tearing along until the sound became very distant; then inanother moment the sound changed, as the vehicle turned on to themetalled road a couple of miles off. Then it died away altogether. 

On the farm they went about shaking themselves and unable to rest, wandering into their rooms and out again to gaze up at the tallwindows, where people were running backward and forward with lights. What had happened? Some mishap to the farmer, evidently, for nowand again the mistress's commanding voice could be heard down inthe kitchen--but what? The wash-house and the servants' room weredark and locked. 

Toward morning, when the doctor had come and had taken things intohis own hands, a greater calm fell upon them all, and the maids tookthe opportunity of slipping out into the yard. They would not atonce say what was the matter, but stood looking in an embarrassedway at one another, and laughing stupidly. At last they graduallygot it out by first one telling a little and then another: in a fitof delirium or of madness Kongstrup had done violence to himself. Their faces were contorted with a mixture of fear and smotheredlaughter; and when Karl Johan said gravely to Fair Maria: "You'renot telling a lie, are you?" she burst into tears. There she stoodlaughing and crying by turns; and it made no difference that KarlJohan scolded her sharply. 

But it was true, although it sounded like the craziest nonsense thata man could do such a thing to himself. It was a truth that struckone dumb!

It was some time before they could make it out at all, but whenthey did there were one or two things about it that seemed a littleunnatural. It could not have happened during intoxication, for thefarmer never drank at home, did not drink at all, as far as any oneknew, but only took a glass in good company. It was more likely tohave been remorse and contrition; it was not impossible consideringthe life he had led, although it was strange that a man of hisnature should behave in such a desperate fashion. 

But it was not satisfactory! And gradually, without it beingpossible to point to any origin, all thoughts turned toward her. She had changed of late, and the Koller blood had come out in her;and in that family they had never let themselves be trodden downunrevenged!

XX

Out in the shelter of the gable-wall of the House sat Kongstrup, well wrapped up, and gazing straight before him with expressionlesseyes. The winter sun shone full upon him; it had lured forth signsof spring, and the sparrows were hopping gaily about him. His wifewent backward and forward, busying herself about him; she wrappedhis feet up better, and came with a shawl to put round his shoulders. She touched his chest and arms affectionately as she spread theshawl over him from behind; and he slowly raised his head andpassed his hand over hers. She stood thus for a little while, leaning against his shoulder and looking down upon him like amother, with eyes that were tranquil with the joy of possession. 

Pelle came bounding down across the yard, licking his lips. He hadtaken advantage of his mistress's preoccupation to steal down intothe dairy and get a drink of sour cream from the girls, and teasethem a little. He was glowing with health, and moved along ascarelessly happy as if the whole world were his. 

It was quite dreadful the way he grew and wore out his things; itwas almost impossible to keep him in clothes! His arms and legsstuck far out of every article of clothing he put on, and he worethings out as fast as Lasse could procure them. Something new wasalways being got for him, and before you could turn round, his armsand legs were out of that too. He was as strong as an oak-tree; andwhen it was a question of lifting or anything that did not requireperseverence, Lasse had to allow himself to be superseded. 

The boy had acquired independence, too, and every day it became moredifficult for the old man to assert his parental authority; but thatwould come as soon as Lasse was master of his own house and couldbring his fist down on his own table. But when would that be? Asmatters now stood, it looked as if the magistrate did not wanthim and Madam Olsen to be decently married. Seaman Olsen had givenplain warning of his decease, and Lasse thought there was nothingto do but put up the banns; but the authorities continued to raisedifficulties and ferret about, in the true lawyers' way. Now therewas one question that had to be examined into, and now another;there were periods of grace allowed, and summonses to be issuedto the dead man to make his appearance within such and such a time, and what not besides! It was all a put-up job, so that thepettifoggers could make something out of it. 

He was thoroughly tired of Stone Farm. Every day he made the samecomplaint to Pelle: "It's nothing but toil, toil, from morning tillnight--one day just like another all the year round, as if you werein a convict-prison! And what you get for it is hardly enough tokeep your body decently covered. You can't put anything by, and oneday when you're worn out and good for nothing more, you can just goon the parish. "

The worst of it all, however, was the desire to work once morefor himself. He was always sighing for this, and his hands weresore with longing to feel what it was like to take hold of one'sown. Of late he had meditated cutting the matter short and movingdown to his sweetheart's, without regard to the law. She was quitewilling, he knew; she badly needed a man's hand in the house. And they were being talked about, anyhow; it would not make muchdifference if he and the boy went as her lodgers, especially whenthey worked independently. 

But the boy was not to be persuaded; he was jealous for his father'shonor. Whenever Lasse touched upon the subject he became strangelysullen. Lasse pretended it was Madam Olsen's idea, and not his. 

"I'm not particularly in favor of it, either, " he said. "People aresure to believe the worst at once. But we can't go on here wearingourselves to a thread for nothing. And you can't breathe freely onthis farm--always tied!"

Pelle made no answer to this; he was not strong in reasons, but knewwhat he wanted. 

"If I ran away from here one night, I guess you'd come trottingafter me. "

Pelle maintained a refractory silence. 

"I think I'll do it, for this isn't to be borne. Now you've got tohave new school-trousers, and where are they coming from?"

"Well, then, do it! Then you'll do what you say. "

"It's easy for you to pooh-pooh everything, " said Lasse despondingly, "for you've time and years before you. But I'm beginning to get old, and I've no one to trouble about me. "

"Why, don't I help you with everything?" asked Pelle reproachfully. 

"Yes, yes, of course you do your very best to make things easier forme, and no one could say you didn't. But, you see--there are certainthings you don't--there's something--" Lasse came to a standstill. What was the use of explaining the longings of a man to a boy? "Youshouldn't be so obstinate, you know!" And Lasse stroked the boy'sarm imploringly. 

But Pelle _was_ obstinate. He had already put up with plentyof sarcastic remarks from his schoolfellows, and fought a good manybattles since it had become known that his father and Madam Olsenwere sweethearts. If they now started living together openly, itwould become quite unbearable. Pelle was not afraid of fighting, but he needed to have right on his side, if he was to kick outproperly. 

"Move down to her, then, and I'll go away!"

"Where'll you go to?"

"Out into the world and get rich!"

Lasse raised his head, like an old war-horse that hears a signal;but then it dropped again. 

"Out into the world and get rich! Yes, yes, " he said slowly; "that'swhat I thought, too, when I was your age. But things don't happenlike that--if you aren't born with a caul. "

Lasse was silent, and thoughtfully kicked the straw in under a cow. He was not altogether sure that the boy was not born with a caul, after all. He was a late-born child, and they were always meantfor the worst or the best; and then he had that cow's-lick on hisforehead, which meant good fortune. He was merry and always singing, and neat-handed at everything; and his nature made him generallyliked. It was very possible that good fortune lay waiting for himsomewhere out there. 

"But the very first thing you need for that is to be properlyconfirmed. You'd better take your books and learn your lessonfor the priest, so that you don't get refused! I'll do the restof the foddering. "

Pelle took his books and seated himself in the foddering-passagejust in front of the big bull. He read in an undertone, and Lassepassed up and down at his work. For some time each minded his own;but then Lasse came up, drawn by the new lesson-books Pelle had gotfor his confirmation-classes. 

"Is that Bible history, that one there?"

"Yes. "

"Is that about the man who drank himself drunk in there?"

Lasse had long since given up learning to read; he had not the headfor it. But he was always interested in what the boy was doing, andthe books exerted a peculiar magic effect upon him. "Now what doesthat stand for?" he would ask wonderingly, pointing to somethingprinted; or "What wonderful thing have you got in your lessonto-day?" Pelle had to keep him informed from day to day. And thesame questions often came again, for Lasse had not a good memory. 

"You know--the one whose sons pulled off his trousers and shamedtheir own father?" Lasse continued, when Pelle did not answer. 

"Oh, Noah!"

"Yes, of course! Old Noah--the one that Gustav had that song about. I wonder what he made himself drunk on, the old man?"

"Wine. "

"Was it wine?" Lasse raised his eyebrows. "Then that Noah must havebeen a fine gentleman! The owner of the estate at home drank wine, too, on grand occasions. I've heard that it takes a lot of that tomake a man tipsy--and it's expensive! Does the book tell you, too, about him that was such a terrible swindler? What was his nameagain?"

"Laban, do you mean?"

"Laban, yes of course! To think that I could forget it, too, for hewas a regular Laban, [Footnote: An ordinary expression in Danish fora mean, deceitful person. ] so the name suits him just right. It washim that let his son-in-law have both his daughters, and off theirprice on his daily wage too! If they'd been alive now, they'd havegot hard labor, both him and his son-in-law; but in those days thepolice didn't look so close at people's papers. Now I should liketo know whether a wife was allowed to have two husbands in thosedays. Does the book say anything about that?" Lasse moved his headinquisitively. 

"No, I don't think it does, " answered Pelle absently. 

"Oh, well, I oughtn't to disturb you, " said Lasse, and went to hiswork. But in a very short time he was back again. "Those two nameshave slipped my memory; I can't think where my head could have beenat the moment. But I know the greater prophets well enough, if youlike to hear me. "

"Say them, then!" said Pelle, without raising his eyes fromhis book. 

"But you must stop reading while I say them, " said Lasse, "or youmight go wrong. " He did not approve of Pelle's wanting to treat itas food for babes. 

"Well, I don't suppose I could go wrong in the four greater!"said Pelle, with an air of superiority, but nevertheless shuttingthe book. 

Lasse took the quid out from his lower lip with his forefinger, and threw it on the ground so as to have his mouth clear, and thenhitched up his trousers and stood for a little while with closedeyes while he moved his lips in inward repetition. 

"Are they coming soon?" asked Pelle. 

"I must first make sure that they're there!" answered Lasse, in vexation at the interruption, and beginning to go over themagain. "Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and Daniel!" he said, dashingthem off hastily, so as not to lose any of them on the way. 

"Shall we take Jacob's twelve sons, too?"

"No, not to-day. It might be too much for me all at once. At my ageyou must go forward gently; I'm not as young as you, you know. Butyou might go through the twelve lesser prophets with me. "

Pelle went through them slowly, and Lasse repeated them one byone. "What confounded names they did think of in those days!" heexclaimed, quite out of breath. "You can hardly get your tongueround them! But I shall manage them in time. "

"What do you want to know them for, father?" asked Pelle suddenly. 

"What do I want to know them for?" Lasse scratched one ear. "Why, of course I--er--what a terrible stupid question! What do _you_want to know them for? Learning's as good for the one to have as forthe other, and in my youth they wouldn't let me get at anything finelike that. Do you want to keep it all to yourself?"

"No, for I wouldn't care a hang about all this prophet businessif I didn't _have_ to. "

Lasse almost fainted with horror. 

"Then you're the most wicked little cub I ever knew, and deservenever to have been born into the world! Is that all the respect youhave for learning? You ought to be glad you were born in an age whenthe poor man's child shares in it all as well as the rich. It wasn'tso in my time, or else--who knows--perhaps I shouldn't be goingabout here cleaning stables if I'd learned something when I wasyoung. Take care you don't take pride in your own shame!"

Pelle half regretted his words now, and said, to clear himself:"I'm in the top form now!"

"Yes, I know that well enough, but that's no reason for your puttingyour hands in your trouser-pockets; while you're taking breath, theothers eat the porridge. I hope you've not forgotten anything in thelong Christmas holidays?"

"Oh, no, I'm sure I haven't!" said Pelle, with assurance. 

Lasse did not doubt it either, but only made believe he did totake the boy in. He knew nothing more splendid than to listen toa rushing torrent of learning, but it was becoming more and moredifficult to get the laddie to contribute it. "How can you be sure?"he went on. "Hadn't you better see? It would be such a comfort toknow that you hadn't forgotten anything--so much as you must havein your head. "

Pelle felt flattered and yielded. He stretched out his legs, closedhis eyes, and began to rock backward and forward. And the TenCommandments, the Patriarchs, the Judges, Joseph and his brethren, the four major and the twelve minor prophets--the whole learningof the world poured from his lips in one long breath. To Lasse itseemed as if the universe itself were whizzing round the white-bearded countenance of the Almighty. He had to bend his head andcross himself in awe at the amount that the boy's little head couldcontain. 

"I wonder what it costs to be a student?" said Lasse, when he oncemore felt earth beneath his feet. 

"It must be expensive--a thousand krones, I suppose, at least, "Pelle thought. Neither of them connected any definite idea withthe number; it merely meant the insurmountably great. 

"I wonder if it would be so terrible dear, " said Lasse. "I've beenthinking that when we have something of our own--I suppose it'llcome to something some day--you might go to Fris and learn thetrade of him fairly cheap, and have your meals at home. We oughtto be able to manage it that way. "

Pelle did not answer; he felt no desire to be apprenticed to theclerk. He had taken out his knife, and was cutting something on apost of one of the stalls. It represented the big bull with his headdown to the ground, and its tongue hanging out of one corner of itsmouth. One hoof right forward at its mouth indicated that the animalwas pawing up the ground in anger. Lasse could not help stopping, for now it was beginning to be like something. "That's meant to bea cow, isn't it?" he said. He had been wondering every day, as itgradually grew. 

"It's Volmer that time he took you on his horns, " said Pelle. 

Lasse could see at once that it was that, now that he had been told. "It's really very like, " he said; "but he wasn't so angry as you'vemade him! Well, well, you'd better get to work again; that therefooling can't make a living for a man. "

Lasse did not like this defect in the boy--making drawings withchalk or his penknife all over; there would soon not be a beam ora wall in the place that did not bear marks of one or the other. Itwas useless nonsense, and the farmer would probably be angry if hecame into the stable and happened to see them. Lasse had every nowand then to throw cow-dung over the most conspicuous drawings, sothat they should not catch the eye of people for whom they were notintended. 

Up at the house, Kongstrup was just going in, leaning on his wife'sarm. He looked pale but by no means thin. "He's still rather lame, "said Lasse, peeping out; "but it won't be long before we have himdown here, so you'd better not quite destroy the post. "

Pelle went on cutting. 

"If you don't leave off that silly nonsense, I'll throw dirt overit!" said Lasse angrily. 

"Then I'll draw you and Madam Olsen on the big gate!" answered Pelleroguishly. 

"You--you'd better! I should curse you before my face, and get theparson to send you away--if not something worse!" Lasse was quiteupset, and went off down to the other end of the cow-stable andbegan the afternoon's cleaning, knocking and pulling his implementsabout. In his anger he loaded the wheelbarrow too full, and thencould neither go one way nor the other, as his feet slipped. 

Pelle came down with the gentlest of faces. "Mayn't I wheel thebarrow out?" he said. "Your wooden shoes aren't so firm on thestones. "

Lasse growled some reply, and let him take it. For a very short timehe was cross, but it was no good; the boy could be irresistible whenhe liked. 

XXI

Pelle had been to confirmation-class, and was now sitting in theservants' room eating his dinner--boiled herring and porridge. Itwas Saturday, and the bailiff had driven into the town, so Erik wassitting over the stove. He never said anything of his own accord, but always sat and stared; and his eyes followed Pelle's movementsbackward and forward between his mouth and his plate. He always kepthis eyebrows raised, as if everything were new to him; they hadalmost grown into that position. In front of him stood a mug of beerin a large pool, for he drank constantly and spilt some every time. 

Fair Maria was washing up, and looked in every now and then to seeif Pelle were finished. When he licked his horn spoon clean andthrew it into the drawer, she came in with something on a plate:they had had roast loin of pork for dinner upstairs. 

"Here's a little taste for you, " she said. "I expect you're stillhungry. What'll you give me for it?" She kept the plate in her hand, and looked at him with a coaxing smile. 

Pelle was still very hungry--ravenous; and he looked at the titbituntil his mouth watered. Then he dutifully put up his lips andMaria kissed him. She glanced involuntarily at Erik, and a gleam ofsomething passed over his foolish face, like a faint reminiscence. 

"There sits that great gaby making a mess!" she said, scolding asshe seized the beer-mug from him, held it under the edge of thetable, and with her hand swept the spilt beer into it. 

Pelle set to work upon the pork without troubling about anythingelse; but when she had gone out, he carefully spat down between hislegs, and went through a small cleansing operation with the sleeveof his blouse. 

When he was finished he went into the stable and cleaned out themangers, while Lasse curried the cows; it was all to look nice forSunday. While they worked, Pelle gave a full account of the day'shappenings, and repeated all that the parson had said. Lasselistened attentively, with occasional little exclamations. "Think ofthat!" "Well, I never!" "So David was a buck like that, and yet hewalked in the sight of God all the same! Well, God's long-sufferingis great--there's no mistake about that!"

There was a knock at the outer door. It was one of Kalle's childrenwith the message that grandmother would like to bid them good-byebefore she passed away. 

"Then she can't have long to live, " exclaimed Lasse. "It'll bea great loss to them all, so happy as they've been together. Butthere'll be a little more food for the others, of course. "

They agreed to wait until they were quite finished, and thensteal away; for if they asked to be let off early, they would notbe likely to get leave for the funeral. "And that'll be a day'sfeasting, with plenty of food and drink, if I know anything ofBrother Kalle!" said Lasse. 

When they had finished their work and had their supper, they stoleout through the outside door into the field. Lasse had heaped up thequilt, and put an old woolly cap just sticking out at the pillow-end;in a hurry it could easily be mistaken for the hair of a sleeper, ifany one came to see. When they had got a little way, Lasse had to goback once more to take precautions against fire. 

It was snowing gently and silently, and the ground was frozen sothat they could go straight on over everything. Now that they knewthe way, it seemed no distance at all; and before they knew wherethey were, the fields came to an end and the rock began. 

There was a light in the cottage. Kalle was sitting up waiting forthem. "Grandmother hasn't long to live, " he said, more seriouslythan Lasse ever remembered to have heard him speak before. 

Kalle opened the door to grandmother's room, and whispered something, to which his wife answered softly out of the darkness. 

"Oh, I'm awake, " said the old woman, in a slow, monotonous voice. "You can speak out, for I am awake. "

Lasse and Pelle took off their leather shoes and went in in theirstockings. "Good evening, grandmother!" they both said solemnly, "and the peace of God!" Lasse added. 

"Well, here I am, " said the old woman, feebly patting the quilt. She had big woollen gloves on. "I took the liberty of sending foryou for I haven't long to live now. How are things going on in theparish? Have there been any deaths?"

"No, not that I know of, " answered Lasse. "But you look so well, grandmother, so fat and rosy! We shall see you going about againin two or three days. "

"Oh, I dare say!" said the old woman, smiling indulgently. "Isuppose I look like a young bride after her first baby, eh? Butthank you for coming; it's as if you belonged to me. Well, now I'vebeen sent for, and I shall depart in peace. I've had a good timein this world, and haven't anything to complain of. I had a goodhusband and a good daughter, not forgetting Kalle there. And I gotmy sight back, so that I saw the world once more. "

"But you only saw it with one eye, like the birds, grandmother, "said Kalle, trying to laugh. 

"Yes, yes, but that was quite good enough; there was so much thatwas new since I lost my sight. The wood had grown bigger, and awhole family had grown up without my quite knowing it. Ah! yes, ithas been good to live in my old age and have them all about me--Kalle and Maria and the children. And all of my own age have gonebefore me; it's been nice to see what became of them all. "

"How old are you now, grandmother?" asked Lasse. 

"Kalle has looked it up in the church-book, and from that I oughtto be almost eighty; but that can scarcely be right. "

"Yes, it's right enough, " said Kalle, "for the parson looked it upfor me himself. "

"Well, well, then the time's gone quickly, and I shouldn't at allmind living a little longer, if it was God's will. But the grave'sgiving warning; I notice it in my eyelids. " The old woman had alittle difficulty in breathing, but kept on talking. 

"You're talking far too much, mother!" said Maria. 

"Yes, you ought to be resting and sleeping, " said Lasse. "Hadn't webetter say good-bye to you?"

"No, I really must talk, for it'll be the last time I see you andI shall have plenty of time to rest. My eyes are so light thank God, and I don't feel the least bit sleepy. "

"Grandmother hasn't slept for a whole week, I think, " said Kalledoubtfully. 

"And why should I sleep away the last of the time I shall have here, when I shall get plenty of time for that afterward? At night whenyou others are asleep, I lie and listen to your breathing, and feelglad that you're all so well. Or I look at the heather-broom, andthink of Anders and all the fun we had together. "

She lay silent for a little while, getting her breath, while shegazed at a withered bunch of heather hanging from a beam. 

"He gathered that for me the first time we lay in the floweringheather. He was so uncommonly fond of the heather, was Anders, andevery year when it flowered, he took me out of my bed and carried meout there--every year until he was called away. I was always as newfor him as on the first day, and so happiness and joy took up theirabode in my heart. "

"Now, mother, you ought to be quiet and not talk so much!" saidMaria, smoothing the old woman's pillow. But she would not besilenced, though her thoughts shifted a little. 

"Yes, my teeth were hard to get and hard to lose, and I brought mychildren into the world with pain, and laid them in the grave withsorrow, one after another. But except for that, I've never been ill, and I've had a good husband. He had an eye for God's creations, andwe got up with the birds every summer morning, and went out onto theheath and saw the sun rise out of the sea before we set about ourdays work. "

The old woman's slow voice died away, and it was as though a songceased to sound in their ears. They sat up and sighed. "Ah, yes, "said Lasse, "the voice of memory is pleasant!"

"What about you, Lasse?" said the old woman suddenly, "I hear you'relooking about for a wife!"

"Am I?" exclaimed Lasse, in alarm. Pelle saw Kalle wink at Maria, so they knew about it too. 

"Aren't you soon coming to show us your sweetheart?" asked Kalle. "I hear it's a good match. "

"I don't in the least know what you're talking about, " said Lasse, quite confused. 

"Well, well, you might do worse than that!" said the grandmother. "She's good enough--from what I know. I hope you'll suit one anotherlike Anders and me. It was a happy time--the days when we went aboutand each did our best, and the nights when the wind blew. It wasgood then to be two to keep one another warm. "

"You've been very happy in everything, grandmother, " exclaimedLasse. 

"Yes, and I'm departing in peace and can lie quiet in my grave. I'venot been treated unfairly in any way, and I've got nothing to hauntany one for. If only Kalle takes care to have me carried out feetfirst, I don't expect I shall trouble you. "

"Just you come and visit us now and then if you like! We shan't beafraid to welcome you, for we've been so happy together here, " saidKalle. 

"No, you never know what your nature may be in the next life. Youmust promise to have me carried out feet first! I don't want todisturb your night's rest, so hard as you two have to work all day. And, besides, you've had to put up with me long enough, and it'llbe nice for you to be by yourselves for once; and there'll be a bitmore for you to eat after this. "

Maria began to cry. 

"Now look here!" exclaimed Kalle testily. "I won't hear any more ofthat nonsense, for none of us have had to go short because of you. If you aren't good, I shall give a big party after you, for joy thatyou're gone!"

"No, you won't!" said the old woman quite sharply. "I won't hearof a three days' wake! Promise me now, Maria, that you won't go andruin yourselves to make a fuss over a poor old soul like me! But youmust ask the nearest neighbors in in the afternoon, with Lasse andPelle, of course. And if you ask Hans Henrik, perhaps he'd bring hisconcertina with him, and you could have a dance in the barn. "

Kalle scratched the back of his head. "Then, hang it, you must waituntil I've finished threshing, for I can't clear the floor now. Couldn't we borrow Jens Kure's horse, and take a little drive overthe heath in the afternoon?"

"You might do that, too, but the children are to have a share inwhatever you settle to do. It'll be a comfort to think they'll havea happy day out of it, for they don't have too many holidays; andthere's money for it, you know. "

"Yes, would you believe it, Lasse--grandmother's got together fiftykrones that none of us knew anything about, to go toward herfuneral-party!"

"I've been putting by for it for twenty years now, for I'd like toleave the world in a decent way, and without pulling the clothes offmy relations' backs. My grave-clothes are all ready, too, for I'vegot my wedding chemise lying by. It's only been used once, and morethan that and my cap I don't want to have on. "

"But that's so little, " objected Maria. "Whatever will the neighborssay if we don't dress you properly?"

"I don't care!" answered the old woman decidedly. "That's how Andersliked me best, and it's all I've worn in bed these sixty years. Sothere!" And she turned her head to the wall. 

"You shall have it all just as you like, mother!" said Maria. 

The old woman turned round again, and felt for her daughter's handon the quilt. "And you must make rather a soft pillow for my oldhead, for it's become so difficult to find rest for it. "

"We can take one of the babies' pillows and cover it with white, "said Maria. 

"Thank you! And then I think you should send to Jacob Kristian's forthe carpenter to-morrow--he's somewhere about, anyhow--and let himmeasure me for the coffin; then I could have my say as to what it'sto be like. Kalle's so free with his money. "

The old woman closed her eyes. She had tired herself out, after all. 

"Now I think we'll creep out into the other room, and let her bequiet, " whispered Kalle, getting up; but at that she opened hereyes. 

"Are you going already?" she asked. 

"We thought you were asleep, grandmother, " said Lasse. 

"No, I don't suppose I shall sleep any more in this life; my eyes areso light, so light! Well, good-bye to you, Lasse and Pelle! May yoube very, very happy, as happy as I've been. Maria was the only onedeath spared, but she's been a good daughter to me; and Kalle's beenas good and kind to me as if I'd been his sweetheart. I had a goodhusband, too, who chopped firewood for me on Sundays, and got upin the night to look after the babies when I was lying-in. We werereally well off--lead weights in the clock and plenty of firing;and he promised me a trip to Copenhagen. I churned my first butterin a bottle, for we had no churn to begin with; and I had to breakthe bottle to get it out, and then he laughed, for he always laughedwhen I did anything wrong. And how glad he was when each baby wasborn! Many a morning did he wake me up and we went out to see thesun come up out of the sea. 'Come and see, Anna, ' he would say, 'theheather's come into bloom in the night. ' But it was only the sunthat shed its red over it! It was more than two miles to our nearestneighbor, but he didn't care for anything as long as he had me. Hefound his greatest pleasures in me, poor as I was; and the animalswere fond of me too. Everything went well with us on the whole. "

She lay moving her head from side to side, and the tears wererunning down her cheeks. She no longer had difficulty in breathing, and one thing recalled another, and fell easily in one long tonefrom her lips. She probably did not now know what she was saying, but could not stop talking. She began at the beginning and repeatedthe words, evenly and monotonously, like one who is carried away and_must_ talk. 

"Mother!" said Maria anxiously, putting her hands on her mother'sshaking head. "Recollect yourself, mother!"

The old woman stopped and looked at her wonderingly. "Ah, yes!" shesaid. "Memories came upon me so fast! I almost think I could sleepa little now. "

Lasse rose and went up to the bed. "Good-bye, grandmother!" he said, "and a pleasant journey, in case we shouldn't meet again!" Pellefollowed him and repeated the words. The old woman looked at theminquiringly, but did not move. Then Lasse gently took her hand, andthen Pelle, and they stole out into the other room. 

"Her flame's burning clear to the end!" said Lasse, when the doorwas shut. Pelle noticed how freely their voices rang again. 

"Yes, she'll be herself to the very end; there's been extra goodtimber in her. The people about here don't like our not having thedoctor to her. What do you think? Shall we go to the expense?"

"I don't suppose there's anything more the matter with her thanthat she can't live any longer, " said Lasse thoughtfully. 

"No, and she herself won't hear of it. If he could only keep lifein her a little while longer!"

"Yes, times are hard!" said Lasse, and went round to look at thechildren. They were all asleep, and their room seemed heavy withtheir breathing. "The flock's getting much smaller. "

"Yes; one or two fly away from the nest pretty well every year, "answered Kalle, "and now I suppose we shan't have any more. It's anunfortunate figure we've stopped at--a horrid figure; but Maria'sbecome deaf in that ear, and I can't do anything alone. " Kalle hadgot back his roguish look. 

"I'm sure we can do very well with what we've got, " said Maria. "When we take Anna's too, it makes fourteen. "

"Oh, yes, count the others too, and you'll get off all the easier!"said Kalle teasingly. 

Lasse was looking at Anna's child, which lay side by side withKalle's thirteenth. "She looks healthier than her aunt, " he said. "You'd scarcely think they were the same age. She's just as red asthe other's pale. "

"Yes, there is a difference, " Kalle admitted, looking affectionatelyat the children. "It must be that Anna's has come from young people, while _our_ blood's beginning to get old. And then the onesthat come the wrong side of the blanket always thrive best--likeour Albert, for instance. He carries himself quite differently fromthe others. Did you know, by-the-by, that he's to get a ship of hisown next spring?"

"No, surely not! Is he really going to be a captain?" said Lasse, in the utmost astonishment. 

"It's Kongstrup that's at the back of that--that's between ourselves, of course!"

"Does the father of Anna's child still pay what he's bound to?"asked Lasse. 

"Yes, he's honest enough! We get five krones a month for having thechild, and that's a good help toward expenses. "

Maria had placed a dram, bread and a saucer of dripping on the table, and invited them to take their places at it. 

"You're holding out a long time at Stone Farm, " said Kalle, when theywere seated. "Are you going to stay there all your life?" he asked, with a mischievous wink. 

"It's not such a simple matter to strike out into the deep!" saidLasse evasively. 

"Oh, we shall soon be hearing news from you, shan't we?" askedMaria. 

Lasse did not answer; he was struggling with a crust. 

"Oh, but do cut off the crust if it's too much for your teeth!"said Maria. Every now and then she listened at her mother's door. "She's dropped off, after all, poor old soul!" she said. 

Kalle pretended to discover the bottle for the first time. "What!Why, we've got gin on the table, too, and not one of us has smeltit!" he exclaimed, and filled their glasses for the third time. ThenMaria corked the bottle. "Do you even grudge us our food?" he said, making great eyes at her--what a rogue he was! And Maria stared athim with eyes that were just as big, and said: "Yah! you want tofight, do you?" It quite warmed Lasse's heart to see theirhappiness. 

"How's the farmer at Stone Farm? I suppose he's got over the worstnow, hasn't he?" said Kalle. 

"Well, I think he's as much a man as he'll ever be. A thing likethat leaves its mark upon any one, " answered Lasse. Maria wassmiling, and as soon as they looked at her, she looked away. 

"Yes, you may grin!" said Lasse; "but I think it's sad!" Upon whichMaria had to go out into the kitchen to have her laugh out. 

"That's what all the women do at the mere mention of his name, " saidKalle. "It's a sad change. To-day red, to-morrow dead. Well, she'sgot her own way in one thing, and that is that she keeps him toherself--in a way. But to think that he can live with her afterthat!"

"They seem fonder of one another than they ever were before; hecan't do without her for a single minute. But of course he wouldn'tfind any one else to love him now. What a queer sort of devilmentlove is! But we must see about getting home. "

"Well, I'll send you word when she's to be buried, " said Kalle, when they got outside the house. 

"Yes, do! And if you should be in want of a ten-krone note forthe funeral, let me know. Good-bye, then!"

XXII

Grandmother's funeral was still like a bright light behindeverything that one thought and did. It was like certain kindsof food, that leave a pleasant taste in the mouth long after theyhave been eaten and done with. Kalle had certainly done everythingto make it a festive day; there was an abundance of good things toeat and drink, and no end to his comical tricks. And, sly dog thathe was, he had found an excuse for asking Madam Olsen; it was reallya nice way of making the relation a legitimate one. 

It gave Lasse and Pelle enough to talk about for a whole month, and after the subject was quite talked out and laid on one side forother things, it remained in the background as a sense of well-beingof which no one quite knew the origin. 

But now spring was advancing, and with it came troubles--not thedaily trifles that could be bad enough, but great troubles thatdarkened everything, even when one was not thinking about them. Pelle was to be confirmed at Easter, and Lasse was at his wits' endto know how he was going to get him all that he would need--newclothes, new cap, new shoes! The boy often spoke about it; he musthave been afraid of being put to shame before the others that dayin church. 

"It'll be all right, " said Lasse; but he himself saw no way at allout of the difficulty. At all the farms where the good old customsprevailed, the master and mistress provided it all; out hereeverything was so confoundedly new-fangled, with Prompt paymentsthat slipped away between one's fingers. A hundred krones a yearin wages seemed a tremendous amount when one thought of it all inone; but you only got them gradually, a few ores at a time, withoutyour being able to put your finger anywhere and say: You got a goodround sum there! "Yes, yes, it'll be all right!" said Lasse aloud, when he had got himself entangled in absurd speculations; and Pellehad to be satisfied with this. There was only one way out of thedifficulty--to borrow the money from Madam Olsen; and that Lassewould have to come to in the end, loth as he was to do it. But Pellemust not know anything about it. 

Lasse refrained as long as he possibly could, hoping that somethingor other would turn up to free him from the necessity of sodisgraceful a proceeding as borrowing from his sweetheart. Butnothing happened, and time was passing. One morning he cut the mattershort; Pelle was just setting out for school. "Will you run in toMadam Olsen's and give her this?" he said, handing the boy a packet. "It's something she's promised to mend for us. " Inside on the paper, was the large cross that announced Lasse's coming in the evening. 

From the hills Pelle saw that the ice had broken up in the night. It had filled the bay for nearly a month with a rough, compact mass, upon which you could play about as safely as on dry land. This wasa new side of the sea, and Pelle had carefully felt his way forwardwith the tips of his wooden shoes, to the great amusement of theothers. Afterward he learned to walk about freely on the ice withoutconstantly shivering at the thought that the great fish of the seawere going about just under his wooden shoes, and perhaps were onlywaiting for him to drop through. Every day he went out to the highrampart of pack-ice that formed the boundary about a mile out, wherethe open water moved round in the sunshine like a green eye. He wentout because he would do what the others did, but he never felt safeon the sea. 

Now it was all broken up, and the bay was full of heaving ice-floesthat rubbed against one another with a crackling sound; and thepieces farthest out, carrying bits of the rampart, were already ontheir way out to sea. Pelle had performed many exploits out there, but was really quite pleased that it was now packing up and takingits departure, so that it would once more be no crime to stay on dryland. 

Old Fris was sitting in his place. He never left it now during alesson, however badly things might go down in the class, but contentedhimself with beating on the desk with his cane. He was little morethan a shadow of his former self, his head was always shaking, andhis hands were often incapable of grasping an object. He still broughtthe newspaper with him, and opened it out at the beginning of thelesson, but he did not read. He would fall into a dream, sitting boltupright, with his hands on the desk and his back against the wall. At such times the children could be as noisy as they liked, and hedid not move; only a slight change in the expression of his eyesshowed that he was alive at all. 

It was quieter in school now. It was not worth while teasing themaster, for he scarcely noticed it, and so the fun lost most of itsattraction. A kind of court of justice had gradually formed among thebigger boys; they determined the order of the school-lessons, anddisobedience and disputes as to authority were respectively punishedand settled in the playground--with fists and tips of wooden shoes. The instruction was given as before, by the cleverer scholars teachingwhat they knew to the others; there was rather more arithmetic andreading than in Fris's time, but on the other hand the hymns suffered. 

It still sometimes happened that Fris woke up and interfered in theinstruction. "Hymns!" he would cry in his feeble voice, and strikethe desk from habit; and the children would put aside what they weredoing to please the old man, and begin repeating some hymn or other, taking their revenge by going through one verse over and over againfor a whole hour. It was the only real trick they played the old man, and the joke was all on their side, for Fris noticed nothing. 

Fris had so often talked of resigning his post, but now he did noteven think of that. He shuffled to and from school at the regulartimes, probably without even knowing he did it. The authoritiesreally had not the heart to dismiss him. Except in the hymns, whichcame off with rather short measure, there was nothing to say againsthim as teacher; for no one had ever yet left his school without beingable both to write his name and to read a printed book--if it were inthe old type. The new-fashioned printing with Latin letters Fris didnot teach, although he had studied Latin in his youth. 

Fris himself probably did not feel the change, for he had ceased tofeel both for himself and for others. None now brought their humansorrows to him, and found comfort in a sympathetic mind; his mindwas not there to consult. It floated outside him, half detached, asit were, like a bird that is unwilling to leave its old nest to setout on a flight to the unknown. It must have been the fluttering mindthat his eyes were always following when they dully gazed about intovacancy. But the young men who came home to winter in the village, and went to Fris as to an old friend, felt the change. For them therewas now an empty place at home; they missed the old growler, who, though he hated them all in the lump at school, loved them allafterward, and was always ready with his ridiculous "He was my bestboy!" about each and all of them, good and bad alike. 

The children took their playtime early, and rushed out before Pellehad given the signal; and Fris trotted off as usual into the village, where he would be absent the customary two hours. The girls gatheredin a flock to eat their dinners, and the boys dashed about theplayground like birds let loose from a cage. 

Pelle was quite angry at the insubordination, and pondered over away of making himself respected; for to-day he had had the other bigboys against him. He dashed over the playground like a circling gull, his body inclined and his arms stretched out like a pair of wings. Most of them made room for him, and those who did not move willinglywere made to do so. His position was threatened, and he kept movingincessantly, as if to keep the question undecided until a possibilityof striking presented itself. 

This went on for some time; he knocked some over and hit out atothers in his flight, while his offended sense of power grew. Hewanted to make enemies of them all. They began to gather up by thegymnastic apparatus, and suddenly he had the whole pack upon him. Hetried to rise and shake them off, flinging them hither and thither, but all in vain; down through the heap came their remorselessknuckles and made him grin with pain. He worked away indefatigablybut without effect until he lost patience and resorted to lessscrupulous tactics--thrusting his fingers into eyes, or attackingnoses, windpipes, and any vulnerable part he could get at. Thatthinned them out, and he was able to rise and fling a last littlefellow across the playground. 

Pelle was well bruised and quite out of breath, but contented. Theyall stood by, gaping, and let him brush himself down; he was thevictor. He went across to the girls with his torn blouse, and theyput it together with pins and gave him sweets; and in return hefastened two of them together by their plaits, and they screamedand let him pull them about without being cross; it was all justas it should be. 

But he was not quite secure after his victory. He could not, likeHenry Boker in his time, walk right through the whole flock withhis hands in his pockets directly after a battle, and look as ifthey did not exist. He had to keep stealing glances at them while hestrolled down to the beach, and tried with all his might to controlhis breathing; for next to crying, to be out of breath was thegreatest disgrace that could happen to you. 

Pelle walked along the beach, regretting that he had not leaped uponthem again at once while the flush of victory was still upon him: itwas too late now. If he had, it might perhaps have been said of himtoo that he could lick all the rest of the class together; and nowhe must be content with being the strongest boy in the school. 

A wild war-whoop from the school made him start. The whole swarm ofboys was coming round the end of the house with sticks and piecesof wood in their hands. Pelle knew what was at stake if he gave way, and therefore forced himself to stand quietly waiting although hislegs twitched. But suddenly they made a wild rush at him, and with aspring he turned to fly. There lay the sea barring his way, closelypacked with heaving ice. He ran out on to an ice-floe, leaped fromit to the next, which was not large enough to bear him--had to go on. 

The idea of flight possessed him and made the fear of what laybehind overpoweringly great. The lumps of ice gave way beneath him, and he had to leap from piece to piece; his feet moved as fast asfingers over the notes of a piano. He just noticed enough to takethe direction toward the harbor breakwater. The others stood gapingon the beach while Pelle danced upon the water like a stone makingducks and drakes. The pieces of ice bobbed under as soon as hetouched them, or turned up on edge; but Pelle came and slid by witha touch, flung himself to one side with lightning rapidity, andchanged his aim in the middle of a leap like a cat. It was likea dance on red-hot iron, so quickly did he pick up his feet, andspring from one place to another. The water spurted up from thepieces of ice as he touched them, and behind him stretched a crookedtrack of disturbed ice and water right back to the place where theboys stood and held their breath. There was nobody like Pelle, notone of them could do what he had done there! When with a final leaphe threw himself upon the breakwater, they cheered him. Pelle hadtriumphed in his flight!

He lay upon the breakwater, exhausted and gasping for breath, and gazed without interest at a brig that had cast anchor off thevillage. A boat was rowing in--perhaps with a sick man to be put inquarantine. The weather-beaten look of the vessel told of her havingbeen out on a winter voyage, in ice and heavy seas. 

Fishermen came down from the cottages and strolled out to the placewhere the boat would come in, and all the school-children followed. In the stern of the boat sat an elderly, weather-beaten man with afringe of beard round his face; he was dressed in blue, and in frontof him stood a sea-chest. "Why, it's Boatswain Olsen!" Pelle heardone fisherman say. Then the man stepped ashore, and shook hands withthem all; and the fisherman and the school-children closed round himin a dense circle. 

Pelle made his way up, creeping along behind boats and sheds; andas soon as he was hidden by the school-building, he set off runningstraight across the fields to Stone Farm. His vexation burnt histhroat, and a feeling of shame made him keep far away from housesand people. The parcel that he had had no opportunity of deliveringin the morning was like a clear proof to everybody of his shame, andhe threw it into a marl-pit as he ran. 

He would not go through the farm, but thundered on the outsidedoor to the stable. "Have you come home already?" exclaimed Lasse, pleased. 

"Now--now Madam Olsen's husband's come home!" panted Pelle, and wentpast his father without looking at him. 

To Lasse it was as if the world had burst and the falling fragmentswere piercing into his flesh. Everything was failing him. He movedabout trembling and unable to grasp anything; he could not talk, everything in him seemed to have come to a standstill. He had pickedup a piece of rope, and was going backward and forward, backward andforward, looking up. 

Then Pelle went up to him. "What are you going to do with that?"he asked harshly. 

Lasse let the rope fall from his hand and began to complain of thesadness and poverty of existence. One feather fell off here, andanother there, until at last you stood trampling in the mud likea featherless bird--old and worn-out and robbed of every hope of ahappy old age. He went on complaining in this way in an undertone, and it eased him. 

Pelle made no response. He only thought of the wrong and the shamethat had come upon them, and found no relief. 

Next morning he took his dinner and went off as usual, but whenhe was halfway to school he lay down under a thorn. There he lay, fuming and half-frozen, until it was about the time when schoolwould be over, when he went home. This he did for several days. Toward his father he was silent, almost angry. Lasse went aboutlamenting, and Pelle had enough with his own trouble; each movedin his own world, and there was no bridge between; neither of themhad a kind word to say to the other. 

But one day when Pelle came stealing home in this way, Lassereceived him with a radiant face and weak knees. "What on earth'sthe good of fretting?" he said, screwing up his face and turninghis blinking eyes upon Pelle--for the first time since the bad newshad come. "Look here at the new sweetheart I've found! Kiss her, laddie!" And Lasse drew from the straw a bottle of gin, and heldit out toward him. 

Pelle pushed it angrily from him. 

"Oh, you're too grand, are you?" exclaimed Lasse. "Well, well, itwould be a sin and a shame to waste good things upon you. " He putthe bottle to his lips and threw back his head. 

"Father, you shan't do that!" exclaimed Pelle, bursting into tearsand shaking his father's arm so that the liquid splashed out. 

"Ho-ho!" said Lasse in astonishment, wiping his mouth with the backof his hand. "She's uncommonly lively, ho-ho!" He grasped the bottlewith both hands and held it firmly, as if it had tried to get awayfrom him. "So you're obstreperous, are you?" Then his eye fell uponPelle. "And you're crying! Has any one hurt you? Don't you knowthat your father's called Lasse--Lasse Karlsson from Kungstorp? Youneedn't he afraid, for Lasse's here, and he'll make the whole worldanswer for it. "

Pelle saw that his father was quickly becoming more fuddled, andought to be put to bed for fear some one should come and find himlying there. "Come now, father!" he begged. 

"Yes, I'll go now. I'll make him pay for it, if it's old Beelzebubhimself! You needn't cry!" Lasse was making for the yard. 

Pelle stood in front of him. "Now you must come with me, father!There's no one to make pay for anything. "

"Isn't there? And yet you're crying! But the farmer shall answerto me for all these years. Yes, my fine landed gentleman, with yournose turned up at every one!"

This made Pelle afraid. "But father, father!" he cried. "Don't go upthere! He'll be in such a rage, he'll turn us out! Remember you'redrunk!"

"Yes, of course I'm drunk, but there's no harm in me. " He stoodfumbling with the hook that fastened the lower half of the door. 

It was wrong to lay a hand upon one's own father, but now Pellewas compelled to set aside all such scruples. He took a firm holdof the old man's collar. "Now you come with me!" he said, and drewhim along toward their room. 

Lasse laughed and hiccupped and struggled; clutched hold ofeverything that he could lay hands on--the posts and the animals'tails--while Pelle dragged him along. He had hold of him behind, and was half carrying him. In the doorway they stuck fast, as theold man held on with both hands; and Pelle had to leave go of himand knock his arms away so that he fell, and then drag him alongand on to the bed. 

Lasse laughed foolishly all the time, as if it were a game. Onceor twice when Pelle's back was turned, he tried to get up; his eyeshad almost disappeared, but there was a cunning expression abouthis mouth, and he was like a naughty child. Suddenly he fell backin a heavy sleep. 

The next day was a school holiday, so there was no need for Pelleto hide himself. Lasse was ashamed and crept about with an air ofhumility. He must have had quite a clear idea of what had happenedthe day before, for suddenly he touched Pelle's arm. "You're likeNoah's good son, that covered up his father's shame!" he said;"but Lasse's a beast. It's been a hard blow on me, as you may wellbelieve! But I know quite well that it doesn't mend matters to drinkone's self silly. It's a badly buried trouble that one has to laywith gin; and what's hidden in the snow comes up in the thaw, asthe saying is. "

Pelle made no answer. 

"How do people take it?" asked Lasse cautiously. He had now got sofar as to have a thought for the shameful side of the matter. "I don't think they know about it yet here on the farm; but whatdo they say outside?"

"How should I know?" answered Pelle sulkily. 

"Then you've heard nothing?"

"Do you suppose I'll go to school to be jeered at by them all?"Pelle was almost crying again. 

"Then you've been wandering about and let your father believe thatyou'd gone to school? That wasn't right of you, but I won't findfault with you, considering all the disgrace I've brought upon you. But suppose you get into trouble for playing truant, even if youdon't deserve it? Misfortunes go hand in hand, and evils multiplylike lice in a fur coat. We must think what we're about, we two;we mustn't let things go all to pieces!"

Lasse walked quickly into their room and returned with the bottle, took out the cork, and let the gin run slowly out into the gutter. Pelle looked wonderingly at him. "God forgive me for abusing hisgifts!" said Lasse; "but it's a bad tempter to have at hand whenyou've a sore heart. And now if I give you my word that you shallnever again see me as I was yesterday, won't you have a try atschool again to-morrow, and try and get over it gradually? We mightget into trouble with the magistrate himself if you keep on stayingaway; for there's a heavy punishment for that sort of thing in thiscountry. "

Pelle promised and kept his word; but he was prepared for the worst, and secretly slipped a knuckle-duster into his pocket that Erik hadused in his palmy days when he went to open-air fetes and otherplaces where one had to strike a blow for one's girl. It was notrequired, however, for the boys were entirely taken up with a shipthat had had to be run aground to prevent her sinking, and now laydischarging her cargo of wheat into the boats of the village. Thewheat already lay in the harbor in great piles, wet and swollen withthe salt water. 

And a few days later, when this had become stale, something happenedwhich put a stop forever to Pelle's school attendance. The childrenwere busy at arithmetic, chattering and clattering with theirslates, and Fris was sitting as usual in his place, with his headagainst the wall and his hands resting on the desk. His dim eyeswere somewhere out in space, and not a movement betrayed that hewas alive. It was his usual position, and he had sat thus eversince playtime. 

The children grew restless; it was nearly time for them to go home. A farmer's son who had a watch, held it up so that Pelle could seeit, and said "Two" aloud. They noisily put away their slates andbegan to fight; but Fris, who generally awoke at this noise ofdeparture, did not stir. Then they tramped out, and in passing, oneof the girls out of mischief stroked the master's hand. She startedback in fear. "He's quite cold!" she said, shuddering and drawingback behind the others. 

They stood in a semicircle round the desk, and tried to see intoFris's half-closed eyes; and then Pelle went up the two steps andlaid his hand upon his master's shoulder. "We're going home, " hesaid, in an unnatural voice. Fris's arm dropped stiffly down fromthe desk, and Pelle had to support his body. "He's dead!" the wordspassed like a shiver over the children's lips. 

Fris was dead--dead at his post, as the honest folks of the parishexpressed it. Pelle had finished his schooling for good, and couldbreathe freely. 

He helped his father at home, and they were happy together and drewtogether again now that there was no third person to stand betweenthem. The gibes from the others on the farm were not worth takingnotice of; Lasse had been a long time on the farm, and knew too muchabout each of them, so that he could talk back. He sunned himselfin Pelle's gently childlike nature, and kept up a continual chatter. One thing he was always coming back to. "I ought to be glad I hadyou, for if you hadn't held back that time when I was bent uponmoving down to Madam Olsen's, we should have been in the wrong box. I should think he'd have killed us in his anger. You were my goodangel as you always have been. "

Lasse's words had the pleasant effect of caresses on Pelle; he washappy in it all, and was more of a child than his years would haveindicated. 

But one Saturday he came home from the parson's altogether changed. He was as slow about everything as a dead herring, and did not goacross to his dinner, but came straight in through the outer door, and threw himself face downward upon a bundle of hay. 

"What's the matter now?" asked Lasse, coming up to him. "Has anyone been unkind to you?"

Pelle did not answer, but lay plucking at the hay. Lasse was goingto turn his face up to him, but Pelle buried it in the hay. "Won'tyou trust your own father? You know I've no other wish in the worldbut for your good!" Lasse's voice was sad. 

"I'm to be turned out of the confirmation-class, " Pelle managed tosay, and then burrowed into the hay to keep back his tears. 

"Oh, no, surely not!" Lasse began to tremble. "Whatever have youdone?"

"I've half killed the parson's son. "

"Oh, that's about the worst thing you could have done--lift yourhand against the parson's son! I'm sure he must have deserved it, but--still you shouldn't have done it. Unless he's accused you ofthieving, for no honest man need stand that from any one, not eventhe king himself. "

"He--he called you Madam Olsen's concubine. " Pelle had somedifficulty in getting this out. 

Lasse's mouth grew hard and he clenched his fists. "Oh, he did! Oh, did he! If I had him here, I'd kick his guts out, the young monkey!I hope you gave him something he'll remember for a long time?"

"Oh, no, it wasn't very much, for he wouldn't stand up to me--hethrew himself down and screamed. And then the parson came!"

For a little while Lasse's face was disfigured with rage, and hekept uttering threats. Then he turned to Pelle. "And they've turnedyou out? Only because you stood up for your old father! I'm alwaysto bring misfortune upon you, though I'm only thinking of your good!But what shall we do now?"

"I won't stay here any longer, " said Pelle decidedly. 

"No, let's get away from here; nothing has ever grown on this farmfor us two but wormwood. Perhaps there are new, happy days waitingfor us out there; and there are parsons everywhere. If we two worktogether at some good work out there, we shall earn a peck of money. Then one day we'll go up to a parson, and throw down half a hundredkrones in front of his face, and it 'u'd be funny if he didn'tconfirm you on the spot--and perhaps let himself be kicked intothe bargain. Those kind of folk are very fond of money. "

Lasse had grown more erect in his anger, and had a keen look inhis eyes. He walked quickly along the foddering passage, and threwthe things about carelessly, for Pelle's adventurous proposal hadinfected him with youth. In the intervals of their work, theycollected all their little things and packed the green chest. "Whata surprise it'll be to-morrow morning when they come here and findthe nest empty!" said Pelle gaily. Lasse chuckled. 

Their plan was to take shelter with Kalle for a day or two, whilethey took a survey of what the world offered. When everything wasdone in the evening, they took the green chest between them, andstole out through the outside door into the field. The chest washeavy, and the darkness did not make walking easier. They moved ona little way, changed hands, and rested. "We've got the night beforeus!" said Lasse cheerfully. 

He was quite animated, and while they sat resting upon the chesttalked about everything that awaited them. When he came to astandstill Pelle began. Neither of them had made any distinct plansfor their future; they simply expected a fairy-story itself with itsinconceivable surprises. All the definite possibilities that theywere capable of picturing to themselves fell so far short of thatwhich must come, that they left it alone and abandoned themselvesto what lay beyond their powers of foresight. 

Lasse was not sure-footed in the dark, and had more and morefrequently to put down his burden. He grew weary and breathless, and the cheerful words died away upon his lips. "Ah, how heavy itis!" he sighed. "What a lot of rubbish you do scrape together inthe course of time!" Then he sat down upon the chest, quite out ofbreath. He could do no more. "If only we'd had something to pickus up a little!" he said faintly. "And it's so dark and gloomyto-night. "

"Help me to get it on my back, " said Pelle, "and I'll carry ita little way. "

Lasse would not at first, but gave in, and they went on again, he running on in front and giving warning of ditches and walls. "Suppose Brother Kalle can't take us in!" he said suddenly. 

"He's sure to be able to. There's grandmother's bed; that's bigenough for two. "

"But suppose we can't get anything to do, then we shall be a burdenon him. "

"Oh, we shall get something to do. There's a scarcity of laborerseverywhere. "

"Yes, they'll jump at you, but I'm really too old to offer myselfout. " Lasse had lost all hope, and was undermining Pelle's too. 

"I can't do any more!" said Pelle, letting the chest down. Theystood with arms hanging, and stared into the darkness at nothingparticular. Lasse showed no desire to take hold again, and Pellewas now tired out. The night lay dark around them, and its all-enveloping loneliness made it seem as if they two were floatingalone in space. 

"Well, we ought to be getting on, " exclaimed Pelle, taking a handleof the chest; but as Lasse did not move, he dropped it and sat down. They sat back to back, and neither could find the right words toutter, and the distance between them seemed to increase. Lasseshivered with the night cold. "If only we were at home in our goodbed!" he sighed. 

Pelle was almost wishing he had been alone, for then he would havegone on to the end. The old man was just as heavy to drag along asthe chest. 

"Do you know I think I'll go back again!" said Lasse at last increstfallen tone. "I'm afraid I'm not able to tread uncertain paths. And you'll never be confirmed if we go on like this! Suppose we goback and get Kongstrup to put in a good word for us with the parson. "Lasse stood and held one handle of the chest. 

Pelle sat on as if he had not heard, and then he silently took hold, and they toiled along on their weary way homeward across the fields. Every other minute Pelle was tired and had to rest; now that theywere going home, Lasse was the more enduring. "I think I could carryit a little way alone, if you'd help me up with it, " he said; butPelle would not hear of it. 

"Pee-u-ah!" sighed Lasse with pleasure when they once more stoodin the warmth of the cow-stable and heard the animals breathing inindolent well-being--"it's comfortable here. It's just like cominginto one's old home. I think I should know this stable again by theair, if they led me into it blindfold anywhere in the world. "

And now they were home again, Pelle too could not help thinkingthat it really was pleasant. 

XXIII

On Sunday morning, between watering and midday feed, Lasse and Pelleascended the high stone steps. They took off their wooden shoes inthe passage, and stood and shook themselves outside the door of theoffice; their gray stocking-feet were full of chaff and earth. Lasseraised his hand to knock, but drew it back. "Have you wiped your noseproperly?" he asked in a whisper, with a look of anxiety on his face. Pelle performed the operation once more, and gave a final polish withthe sleeve of his blouse. 

Lasse lifted his hand again; he looked greatly oppressed. "You mightkeep quiet then!" he said irritably to Pelle, who was standing asstill as a mouse. Lasse's knuckles were poised in the air two orthree times before they fell upon the door; and then he stood withhis forehead close to the panel and listened. "There's no one there, "he whispered irresolutely. 

"Just go in!" exclaimed Pelle. "We can't stand here all day. "

"Then you can go first, if you think you know better how to behave!"said Lasse, offended. 

Pelle quickly opened the door and went in. There was no one in theoffice, but the door was open into the drawing-room, and the soundof Kongstrup's comfortable breathing came thence. 

"Who's there?" he asked. 

"It's Lasse and Pelle, " answered Lasse in a voice that did not soundaltogether brave. 

"Will you come in here?"

Kongstrup was lying on the sofa reading a magazine, and on the tablebeside him stood a pile of old magazines and a plateful of littlecakes. He did not raise his eyes from his book, not even while hishand went out to the plate for something to put in his mouth. He laynibbling and swallowing while he read, and never looked at Lasse andPelle, or asked them what they wanted, or said anything to give thema start. It was like being sent out to plough without knowing where. He must have been in the middle of something very exciting. 

"Well, what do you want?" asked Kongstrup at last in slow tones. 

"Well--well, the master must excuse us for coming like this aboutsomething that doesn't concern the farm; but as matters now stand, we've no one else to go to, and so I said to the laddie: 'Masterwon't be angry, I'm sure, for he's many a time been kind to us poorbeggars--and that. ' Now it's so in this world that even if you're apoor soul that's only fit to do others' dirty work, the Almighty'snevertheless given you a father's heart, and it hurts you to seethe father's sin standing in the son's way. "

Lasse came to a standstill. He had thought it all out beforehand, and so arranged it that it should lead up, in a shrewd, dignifiedway, to the matter itself. But now it was all in a muddle like aslattern's pocket-handkerchief, and the farmer did not look as ifhe had understood a single word of it. He lay there, taking a cakenow and then, and looking helplessly toward the door. 

"It sometimes happens too, that a man gets tired of the singlestate, " began Lasse once more, but at once gave up trying to go on. No matter how he began, he went round and round the thing and gotno hold anywhere! And now Kongstrup began to read again. A tinyquestion from him might have led to the very middle of it; but heonly filled his mouth full and began munching quite hard. 

Lasse was outwardly disheartened and inwardly angry, as he stoodthere and prepared to go. Pelle was staring about at the picturesand the old mahogany furniture, making up his mind about each thing. 

Suddenly energetic steps sounded through the rooms; the ear couldfollow their course right up from the kitchen. Kongstrup's eyesbrightened, and Lasse straightened himself up. 

"Is that you two?" said Fru Kongstrup in her decided way thatindicated the manager. "But do sit down! Why didn't you offerthem a seat, old man?"

Lasse and Pelle found seats, and the mistress seated herselfbeside her husband, with her arm leaning upon his pillow. "Howare you getting on, Kongstrup? Have you been resting?" she askedsympathetically, patting his shoulder. Kongstrup gave a littlegrunt, that might have meant yes, or no, or nothing at all. 

"And what about you two? Are you in need of money?"

"No, it's the lad. He's to be dismissed from the confirmation-class, " answered Lasse simply. With the mistress you couldn't helpbeing decided. 

"Are you to be dismissed?" she exclaimed, looking at Pelle as atan old acquaintance. "Then what have you been doing?"

"Oh, I kicked the parson's son. "

"And what did you do that for?"

"Because he wouldn't fight, but threw himself down. "

Fru Kongstrup laughed and nudged her husband. "Yes, of course. But what had he done to you?"

"He'd said bad things about Father Lasse. "

"What were the things?"

Pelle looked hard at her; she meant to get to the bottom ofeverything. "I won't tell you!" he said firmly. 

"Oh, very well! But then we can't do anything about iteither. "

"I may just as well tell you, " Lasse interrupted. "He calledme Madam Olsen's concubine--from the Bible story, I suppose. "

Kongstrup tried to suppress a chuckle, as if some one hadwhispered a coarse joke in his ear, and he could not help it. The mistress herself was serious enough. 

"I don't think I understand, " she said, and laid a repressinghand upon her husband's arm. "Lasse must explain. "

"It's because I was engaged to Madam Olsen in the village, who everyone thought was a widow; and then her husband came home the otherday. And so they've given me that nickname round about, I suppose. "

Kongstrup began his suppressed laughter again, and Lasse blinkedin distress at it. 

"Help yourselves to a cake!" said Fru Kongstrup in a very loud voice, pushing the plate toward them. This silenced Kongstrup, and he layand watched their assault upon the cake-plate with an attentive eye. 

Fru Kongstrup sat tapping the table with her middle finger whilethey ate. "So that good boy Pelle got angry and kicked out, did he?"she said suddenly, her eyes flashing. 

"Yes, that's what he never ought to have done!" answered Lasseplaintively. 

Fru Kongstrup fixed her eyes upon him. 

"No, for all that the poorer birds are for is to be pecked at! Well, I prefer the bird that pecks back again and defends its nest, nomatter how poor it is. Well, well, we shall see! And is that boygoing to be confirmed? Why, of course! To think that I should beso forgetful! Then we must begin to think about his clothes. "

"That's two troubles got rid of!" said Lasse when they went down tothe stable again. "And did you notice how nicely I let her know thatyou were going to be confirmed? It was almost as if she'd found itout for herself. Now you'll see, you'll be as fine as a shop-boy inyour clothes; people like the master and mistress know what's neededwhen once they've opened their purse. Well, they got the whole truthstraight, but confound it! they're no more than human beings. It'salways best to speak out straight. " Lasse could not forget how wellit had turned out. 

Pelle let the old man boast. "Do you think I shall get leather shoesof them too?" he asked. 

"Yes, of course you will! And I shouldn't wonder if they made aconfirmation-party for you too. I say _they_, but it's herthat's doing it all, and we may be thankful for that. Did younotice that she said _we_--_we_ shall, and so on--always?It's nice of her, for he only lies there and eats and leaveseverything to her. But what a good time he has! I think she'd gothrough fire to please him; but upon my word, she's master there. Well, well, I suppose we oughtn't to speak evil of any one; to youshe's like your own mother!"

Fru Kongstrup said nothing about the result of her drive to theparson; it was not her way to talk about things afterward. But Lasseand Pelle once more trod the earth with a feeling of security; whenshe took up a matter, it was as good as arranged. 

One morning later in the week, the tailor came limping in with hisscissors, tape-measure, and pressing-iron, and Pelle had to go downto the servants' room, and was measured in every direction as if hehad been a prize animal. Up to the present, he had always had hisclothes made by guess-work. It was something new to have itinerantartisans at Stone Farm; since Kongstrup had come into power, neithershoemaker nor tailor had ever set foot in the servants' room. Thiswas a return to the good old farm-customs, and placed Stone Farmonce more on a footing with the other farms. The people enjoyed it, and as often as they could went down into the servants' room fora change of air and to hear one of the tailor's yarns. "It's themistress who's at the head of things now!" they said to one another. There was good peasant blood in her hands, and she brought thingsback into the good old ways. Pelle walked into the servants' roomlike a gentleman; he was fitted several times a day. 

He was fitted for two whole suits, one of which was for Rud, who wasto be confirmed too. It would probably be the last thing that Rudand his mother would get at the farm, for Fru Kongstrup had carriedher point, and they were to leave the cottage in May. They wouldnever venture to set foot again in Stone Farm. Fru Kongstrup herselfsaw that they received what they were to have, but she did not givemoney if she could help it. 

Pelle and Rud were never together now, and they seldom went to theparson together. It was Pelle who had drawn back, as he had growntired of being on the watch for Rud's continual little lies andtreacheries. Pelle was taller and stronger than Rud, and his nature--perhaps because of his physical superiority--had taken more openways. In ability to master a task or learn it by heart, Rud was alsothe inferior; but on the other hand he could bewilder Pelle and theother boys, if he only got a hold with his practical common sense. 

On the great day itself, Karl Johan drove Pelle and Lasse in thelittle one-horse carriage. "We're fine folk to-day!" said Lasse, with a beaming face. He was quite confused, although he had nottasted anything strong. There was a bottle of gin lying in the chestto treat the men with when the sacred ceremony was over; but Lassewas not the man to drink anything before he went to church. Pellehad not _touched_ food; God's Word would take best effect inthat condition. 

Pelle was radiant too, in spite of his hunger. He was in brand-newtwill, so new that it crackled every time he moved. On his feet hewore elastic-sided shoes that had once belonged to Kongstrup himself. They were too large, but "there's no difficulty with a sausagethat's too long, " as Lasse said. He put in thick soles and paperin the toes, and Pelle put on two pairs of stockings; and then theshoes fitted as if they had been cast for his foot. On his head hewore a blue cap that he had chosen himself down at the shop. Itallowed room for growing, and rested on his ears, which, for theoccasion, were as red as two roses. Round the cap was a broad ribbonin which were woven rakes, scythes, and flails, interlaced withsheaves all the way round. 

"It's a good thing you came, " said Pelle, as they drove up to thechurch, and found themselves among so many people. Lasse had almosthad to give up thought of coming, for the man who was going to lookafter the animals while he was away had to go off at the last momentfor the veterinary surgeon; but Karna came and offered to water andgive the midday feed, although neither could truthfully say thatthey had behaved as they ought to have done to her. 

"Have you got that thing now?" whispered Lasse, when they wereinside the church. Pelle felt in his pocket and nodded; thelittle round piece of lignum-vitae that was to carry him overthe difficulties of the day lay there. "Then just answer loud andstraight out, " whispered Lasse, as he slipped into a pew in thebackground. 

Pelle did answer straight out, and to Lasse his voice sounded reallywell through the spacious church. And the parson did absolutelynothing to revenge himself, but treated Pelle exactly as he did theothers. At the most solemn part of the ceremony, Lasse thought ofKarna, and how touching her devotion was. He scolded himself in anundertone, and made a solemn vow. She should not sigh any longer invain. 

For a whole month indeed, Lasse's thoughts had been occupied withKarna, now favorably, now unfavorably; but at this solemn momentwhen Pelle was just taking the great step into the future, andLasse's feelings were touched in so many ways, the thought ofKarna's devotion broke over him as something sad, like a song ofslighted affection that at last, at last has justice done to it. 

Lasse shook hands with Pelle. "Good luck and a blessing!" he saidin a trembling voice. The wish also embraced his own vow and he hadsome difficulty in keeping silence respecting his determination, he was so moved. The words were heard on all sides, and Pelle wentround and shook hands with his comrades. Then they drove home. 

"It all went uncommonly well for you to-day, " said Lasse proudly;"and now you're a man, you know. "

"Yes, now you must begin to look about for a sweetheart, " said KarlJohan. Pelle only laughed. 

In the afternoon they had a holiday. Pelle had first to go up to hismaster and mistress to thank them for his clothes and receive theircongratulations. Fru Kongstrup gave him red-currant wine and cake, and the farmer gave him a two-krone piece. 

Then they went up to Kalle's by the quarry. Pelle was to exhibithimself in his new clothes, and say good-bye to them; there was onlya fortnight to May Day. Lasse was going to take the opportunity ofsecretly obtaining information concerning a house that was for saleon the heath. 

XXIV

They still talked about it every day for the short time that was left. Lasse, who had always had the thought of leaving in his mind, and hadonly stayed on and on, year after year, because the boy's welfaredemanded it--was slow to move now that there was nothing to hold himback. He was unwilling to lose Pelle, and did all he could to keephim; but nothing would induce him to go out into the world again. 

"Stay here!" he said persuasively, "and we'll talk to the mistressand she'll take you on for a proper wage. You're both strong andhandy, and she's always looked upon you with a friendly eye. "

But Pelle would not take service with the farmer; it gave no positionand no prospects. He wanted to be something great, but there was nopossibility of that in the country; he would be following cows allhis days. He would go to the town--perhaps still farther, across thesea to Copenhagen. 

"You'd better come too, " he said, "and then we shall get rich allthe quicker and be able to buy a big farm. "

"Yes, yes, " said Lasse, slowly nodding his head; "that's one for meand two for yourself! But what the parson preaches doesn't alwayscome to pass. We might become penniless. Who knows what the futuremay bring?"

"Oh, I shall manage!" said Pelle, nodding confidently. "Do you meanto say I can't turn my hand to anything I like?"

"And I didn't give notice in time either, " said Lasse to excusehimself. 

"Then run away!"

But Lasse would not do that. "No, I'll stay and work toward gettingsomething for myself about here, " he said, a little evasively. "Itwould be nice for you too, to have a home that you could visit nowand then; and if you didn't get on out there, it wouldn't be bad tohave something to fall back upon. You might fall ill, or somethingelse might happen; the world's not to be relied upon. You have tohave a hard skin all over out there. "

Pelle did not answer. That about the home sounded nice enough, andhe understood quite well that it was Karna's person that weighed downthe other end of the balance. Well, she'd put all his clothes in orderfor his going away, and she'd always been a good soul; he had nothingagainst that. 

It would be hard to live apart from Father Lasse, but Pelle felthe must go. Away! The spring seemed to shout the word in his ears. He knew every rock in the landscape and every tree--yes, every twigon the trees as well; there was nothing more here that could fillhis blue eyes and long ears, and satisfy his mind. 

The day before May Day they packed Pelle's things. Lasse knelt beforethe green chest; every article was carefully folded and remarkedupon, before it was placed in the canvas bag that was to serve Pelleas a traveling-trunk. 

"Now remember not to wear your stockings too long before you mendthem!" said Lasse, putting mending wool on one side. "He who mendshis things in time, is spared half the work and all the disgrace. "

"I shan't forget that, " said Pelle quietly. 

Lasse was holding a folded shirt in his hand. "The one you've goton's just been washed, " he said reflectively. "But one can't tell. Two shirts'll almost be too little if you're away, won't they? Youmust take one of mine; I can always manage to get another by thetime I want a change. And remember, you must never go longer thana fortnight! You who are young and healthy might easily get vermin, and be jeered at by the whole town; such a thing would never betolerated in any one who wants to get on. At the worst you can doa little washing or yourself; you could go down to the shore inthe evening, if that was all!"

"Do they wear wooden shoes in the town?" asked Pelle. 

"Not people who want to get on! I think you'd better let me keepthe wooden shoes and you take my boots instead; they always looknice even if they're old. You'd better wear them when you goto-morrow, and save your good shoes. "

The new clothes were laid at the top of the bag, wrapped in an oldblouse to keep them clean. 

"Now I think we've got everything in, " said Lasse, with a searchingglance into the green chest. There was not much left in it. "Verywell, then we'll tie it up in God's name, and pray that, you mayarrive safely--wherever you decide to go!" Lasse tied up the sack;he was anything but happy. 

"You must say good-bye nicely to every one on the farm, so that theywon't have anything to scratch my eyes out for afterward, " said Lasseafter a little. "And I should like you to thank Karna nicely forhaving put everything in such good order. It isn't every one who'dhave bothered. "

"Yes, I'll do that, " said Pelle in a low voice. He did not seem tobe able to speak out properly to-day. 

 * * * * *

Pelle was up and dressed at daybreak. Mist lay over the sea, andprophesied well for the day. He went about well scrubbed and combed, and looked at everything with wide-open eyes, and with his hands inhis pockets. The blue clothes which he had gone to his confirmation-classes in, had been washed and newly mangled, and he still lookedvery well in them; and the tabs of the old leather boots, which werea relic of Lasse's prosperous days, stuck out almost as much as hisears. 

He had said his "Good-bye and thank-you for all your kindness!"to everybody on the farm--even Erik; and he had had a good meal ofbacon. Now he was going about the stable, collecting himself, shakingthe bull by the horns, and letting the calves suck his fingers; itwas a sort of farewell too! The cows put their noses close up to him, and breathed a long, comfortable breath when he passed, and the bullplayfully tossed its head at him. And close behind him went Lasse;he did not say very much but he always kept near the boy. 

It was so good to be here, and the feeling sank gently over Pelleevery time a cow licked herself, or the warm vapor rose from freshly-falling dung. Every sound was like a mother's caress, and every thingwas a familiar toy, with which a bright world could be built. Uponthe posts all round there were pictures that he had cut upon them;Lasse had smeared them over with dirt again, in case the farmershould come and say that they were spoiling everything. 

Pelle was not thinking, but went about in a dreamy state; it all sankso warmly and heavily into his child's mind. He had taken out hisknife, and took hold of the bull's horn, as if he were going to carvesomething on it. "He won't let you do that, " said Lasse, surprised. "Try one of the bullocks instead. "

But Pelle returned his knife to his pocket; he had not intended todo anything. He strolled along the foddering-passage without aim orobject. Lasse came up and took his hand. 

"You'd better stay here a little longer, " he said. "We're socomfortable. "

But this put life into Pelle. He fixed his big, faithful eyes uponhis father, and then went down to their room. 

Lasse followed him. "In God's name then, if it has to be!" he saidhuskily, and took hold of the sack to help Pelle get it onto hisback. 

Pelle held out his hand. "Good-bye and thank you, father--for allyour kindness!" he added gently. 

"Yes, yes; yes, yes!" said Lasse, shaking his head. It was all hewas able to say. 

He went out with Pelle past the out-houses, and there stopped, whilePelle went on along the dikes with his sack on his back, up towardthe high-road. Two or three times he turned and nodded; Lasse, overcome, stood gazing, with his hand shading his eyes. He had neverlooked so old before. 

Out in the fields they were driving the seed-harrow; Stone Farm wasearly with it this year. Kongstrup and his wife were strolling alongarm-in-arm beside a ditch; every now and then they stopped and shepointed: they must have been talking about the crop. She leanedagainst him when they walked; she had really found rest in heraffection now!

Now Lasse turned and went in. How forlorn he looked! Pelle felt aquick desire to throw down the sack and run back and say somethingnice to him; but before he could do so the impulse had disappearedupon the fresh morning breeze. His feet carried him on upon thestraight way, away, away! Up on a ridge the bailiff was stepping outa field, and close behind him walked Erik, imitating him with foolishgestures. 

On a level with the edge of the rocks, Pelle came to the wide high-road. Here, he knew, Stone Farm and its lands would be lost to sight, and he put down his sack. _There_ were the sand-banks by thesea, with every tree-top visible; _there_ was the fir-tree thatthe yellowhammer always built in; the stream ran milk-white afterthe heavy thaw, and the meadow was beginning to grow green. But thecairn was gone; good people had removed it secretly when Niels Kollerwas drowned and the girl was expected out of prison. 

And the farm stood out clearly in the morning light, with its highwhite dwelling-house, the long range of barns, and all the out-houses. Every spot down there shone so familiarly toward him; the hardshipshe had suffered were forgotten, or only showed up the comforts instronger relief. 

Pelle's childhood had been happy by virtue of everything; it had beena song mingled with weeping. Weeping falls into tones as well as joy, and heard from a distance it becomes a song. And as Pelle gazed downupon his childhood's world, they were only pleasant memories thatgleamed toward him through the bright air. Nothing else existed, or ever had done so. 

He had seen enough of hardship and misfortune, but had come wellout of everything; nothing had harmed him. With a child's voracityhe had found nourishment in it all; and now he stood here, healthyand strong--equipped with the Prophets, the Judges, the Apostles, the Ten Commandments and one hundred and twenty hymns! and turnedan open, perspiring, victor's brow toward the world. 

Before him lay the land sloping richly toward the south, bounded bythe sea. Far below stood two tall black chimneys against the sea asbackground, and still farther south lay the Town! Away from it ranthe paths of the sea to Sweden and Copenhagen! This was the world--the great wide world itself!

Pelle became ravenously hungry at the sight of the great world, andthe first thing he did was to sit down upon the ridge of the hillwith a view both backward and forward, and eat all the food Karnahad given him for the whole day. So his stomach would have nothingmore to trouble about!

He rose refreshed, got the sack onto his back, and set off downwardto conquer the world, pouring forth a song at the top of his voiceinto the bright air as he went:--

 "A stranger I must wander Among the Englishmen; With African black negroes My lot it may be thrown. And then upon this earth there Are Portuguese found too, And every kind of nation Under heaven's sky so blue. "