nd had the herd-boys for company. Mildrid felt that there
was something wrong in all this, but with the best will she could not
set it right.

She was sitting one day near the soeter, herding the goats and
sheep, because one of the herd-boys had played truant and she had to
do his work. It was a warm midday; she was sitting in the shade of a
hillock overgrown with birch and underwood; she had thrown off her
jacket and taken her knitting in her hand, and was expecting Inga.
Something rustled behind her. "There she comes," thought Mildrid, and
looked up.

But there was more noise than Inga was likely to make, and such a
breaking and cracking among the bushes. Mildrid turned pale, got up,
and saw something hairy and a pair of eyes below it--it must be a
bear's head! She wanted to scream, but no voice would come; she wanted
to run, but could not stir. The thing raised itself up--it was a tall,
broad-shouldered man with a fur cap, a gun in his hand. He stopped
short among the bushes and looked at her sharply for a second or two,
then took a step forward, a jump, and stood in the field beside her.
Something moved at her feet, and she gave a little cry; it was his
dog, that she had not seen before.

"Oh, dear!" she said; "I thought it was a bear breaking through the
bushes, and I got such a fright!" And she tried to laugh.

"Well, it might almost have been that," said he, speaking in a very
quiet voice; "Kvas and I were on the track of a bear; but now we have
lost it; and if I have a 'Vardoeger,'[1] it is certainly a bear."

He smiled. She looked at him. Who can he be? Tall, broad-shouldered,
wiry; his eyes restless, so that she could not see them rightly;
besides, she was standing quite close to him, just where he had
suddenly appeared before her with his dog and his gun.

She felt the inclination to say, "Go away!" but instead she drew back
a few steps, and asked: "Who are you?" She was really frightened.

"Hans Haugen," answered the man rather absently; for he was paying
attention to the dog, which seemed to have found the track of the bear
again. He was just going to add, "Good-bye!" but when he looked at her
she was blushing; cheeks, neck, and bosom crimson.

"What's the matter?" said he, astonished.

She did not know what to do or where to go, whether to run away or to
sit down.

"Who are you?" asked Hans in his turn.

Once again she turned crimson, for to tell him her name was to tell
him everything.

"W