e had told him about caring for some one else;
but when he asked her who it was, to, his great happiness she told him
that he, Lars, was the one, and that was the reason why Klaus had gone
away. Then, for the first time, he saw how generously his friend had
acted; he had gone away that he might not interfere with his friend, for
Klaus had found out that Ilda loved Lars. So in due time they were
married in the simple fashion of the Norwegian people. But the crops
were not more nourishing; and work as hard as he would, Lars could not
do as well for himself as he would have liked. So he took all his money
and bought a bigger jagt, and carried klip (or split) fish to the south,
from whence they would be sent to Spain.

This separated him from Ilda and the little yellow-haired Hanne, his
child; and his voyages were not very prosperous, so at last they
determined to do as did the Norsemen and Vikings of old, set sail for
the land of the setting sun.

It was hard to give up Norway, but Ilda was willing to do that which was
for the best, and quietly filled the big boxes and chests with the linen
she had spun herself, and made stout flannel clothes for little Hanne,
and said "good-by" to every one she knew, and then they got off as fast
as the slow jagt would carry them: off, out of the beautiful fjord with
its green banks and snowy-topped mountains, away from the rocks and
fjelds so dear to them, on to the broad, the mighty ocean.

They sailed and sailed for many a day, and Ilda knit while the little
lassie, Hanne, played at her feet, and Lars smoked his pipe, and talked
of the glorious land of liberty and fertile fields which they were
approaching.

They had pleasant weather for a long while, and it did seem as if the
kind words, the _lycksame resa_, or lucky journey, which their friends
had wished them, was really to be experienced. Little Hannchen was a
merry, bright little companion, and made all the rough sailors love her.
Her evening meal was milk and fladbroed, and she always threw some over
the ship's side for the "poor hungry fishes," while she prattled in
Norsk to the sailors, who were mostly Swedes and Finns. But whether they
understood her or not, they liked to watch her blue eyes sparkle, and
her yellow hair fly out like freshly spun flax, as she merrily danced
about the slow old jagt; and they called her "Heldig Hanne," or "happy
Hanne." But they were now approaching land, and fogs set in which were
more to be