, anxious to avoid a row, therefore broke in, in
a voice of friendly remonstrance: "My dear Mr. Garvestad, do let us drop
this matter. If you will permit us, we should like to dismount and drink
a toast to your health, wishing you a long life and much happiness."

"Ah, yes, I understand your smooth palaver," the bridegroom growled
between his teeth. "I have stood your insolence long enough, and, by
jingo, I won't stand it much longer. What will ye take for your mare,
I say, or how much do you want to boot, if you trade her for
Valders-Roan?"

He shouted the last words with furious emphasis, holding his clinched
fist up toward Erik, and glaring at him savagely.

But now Lady Clare, who became frightened perhaps by the loud talk and
violent gestures, began to rear and plunge, and by an unforeseen motion
knocked against the bridegroom, so that he fell backward into the
horse-trough under the pump, which was full of water. The wedding-guests
had hardly time to realize what was happening when a great splash sent
the water flying into their faces, and the burly form of John Garvestad
was seen sprawling helplessly in the horse-trough. But then--then they
realized it with a vengeance. And a laugh went up--a veritable storm
of laughter--which swept through the entire crowd and re-echoed with a
ghostly hilarity from the mountains. John Garvestad in the meanwhile
had managed to pick himself out of the horse-trough, and while he stood
snorting, spitting, and dripping, Captain Carstens and his son politely
lifted their hats to him and rode away. But as they trotted out of the
gate they saw their host stretch a big clinched fist toward them, and
heard him scream with hoarse fury: "I'll make ye smart for that some
day, so help me God!"

Lady Clare was not sent to the mountains in the summer, as are nearly
all horses in the Norwegian country districts. She was left untethered
in an enclosed home pasture about half a mile from the mansion. Here
she grazed, rolled, kicked up her heels, and gambolled to her heart's
content. During the long, bright summer nights, when the sun scarcely
dips beneath the horizon and reappears in an hour, clothed in the breezy
garments of morning, she was permitted to frolic, race, and play all
sorts of improvised games with a shaggy, little, plebeian three-year-old
colt whom she had condescended to honor with her acquaintance. This
colt must have had some fine feeling under his rough coat, for he never
pr