," he said, "and
hadn't the sense to get back on land before the river took them."

It was not long until the peasant saw that he had guessed rightly.
Now he could distinctly see three little children, in their yellow
homespun frocks and round yellow hats, being carried downstream on
a poorly constructed raft that was being slowly torn apart by the
swift current and the moving ice floes.

The children were still a long way off. Big Ingmar knew there was a
bend in the river where it touched his land. If God in His mercy
would only direct the raft with the children into this current, he
thought, he might be able to get them ashore.

He stood very still, watching the raft. All at once it seemed as if
some one had given it a push; it swung round and headed straight
for the shore. By that time the children were so close that he
could see their frightened little faces and hear their cries. But
they were still too far out to be reached by the boat hook, from
the bank at least; so he hurried down to the water's edge, and
waded into the river.

As he did so, he had a strange sort of feeling that some one was
calling to him to comeback. "You are no longer a young man, Ingmar;
this may prove a perilous business for you!" a voice said to him.

He reflected a moment, wondering whether he had the right to risk
his life. The wife, whom he had once fetched from the prison, had
died during the winter, and since her going his one longing had
been that he might soon follow. But, on the other hand, there was
his son who needed a father's care, for he was only a little lad
and could not look after the farm.

"In any case, it must be as God wills," he said.

Now Big Ingmar was no longer either awkward or slow. As he plunged
into the raging river, he planted his boat hook firmly into the
bottom, so as not to be carried away by the current, and he took
good care to dodge the floating ice and driftwood. When the raft
with the children was quite near, he pressed his feet down in the
river bed, thrust out his boat hook, and got a purchase on it.

"Hold on tight!" he shouted to the children, for just then the raft
made a sudden turn and all its planks creaked. But the wretched
structure held together, and Big Ingmar managed to pull it out of
the strongest current. That done, he let go of it, for he knew that
the raft would now drift shoreward by itself.

Touching bottom with his boat hook again, he turned to go back to
the bank. This t