e over the cliff, for some one was coming after him
up on the road, he said. Oyvind opened the note with some difficulty,
for it was folded in a strip, then tied in a knot, then sealed and
stamped; and the note ran thus:--

"He is now on the march; but he moves slowly. Run into the woods
and hide yourself! THE ONE YOU KNOW."

"I will do no such thing," thought Oyvind; and gazed defiantly up the
hills. Nor did he wait long before an old man appeared on the
hill-top, paused to rest, walked on a little, rested again. Both Thore
and his wife stopped to look. Thore soon smiled, however; his wife, on
the other hand, changed color.

"Do you know him?"

"Yes, it is not very easy to make a mistake here."

Father and son again began to carry hay; but the latter took care that
they were always together. The old man on the hill slowly drew near,
like a heavy western storm. He was very tall and rather corpulent; he
was lame and walked with a labored gait, leaning on a staff. Soon he
came so near that they could see him distinctly; he paused, removed his
cap and wiped away the perspiration with a handkerchief. He was quite
bald far back on the head; he had a round, wrinkled face, small,
glittering, blinking eyes, bushy eyebrows, and had lost none of his
teeth. When he spoke it was in a sharp, shrill voice, that seemed to
be hopping over gravel and stones; but it lingered on an "r" here and
there with great satisfaction, rolling it over for several yards, and
at the same time making a tremendous leap in pitch. He had been known
in his younger days as a lively but quick-tempered man; in his old age,
through much adversity, he had become irritable and suspicious.

Thore and his son came and went many times before Ole could make his
way to them; they both knew that he did not come for any good purpose,
therefore it was all the more comical that he never got there. Both
had to walk very serious, and talk in a whisper; but as this did not
come to an end it became ludicrous. Only half a word that is to the
point can kindle laughter under such circumstances, and especially when
it is dangerous to laugh. When at last Ole was only a few rods
distant, but which seemed never to grow less, Oyvind said, dryly, in a
low tone,--

"He must carry a heavy load, that man,"--and more was not required.

"I think you are not very wise," whispered the father, although he was
laughing himself.

"Hem, hem!" said Ole, cou