t know himself. "If only a fellow had
some one to work with," said he.

"Do you get any peat here?" asked Johannes once when they were
taking a breathing space.

"No, nothing beyond what we use ourselves; 'tis a hard job to cut
it."

"Ay, when you use your feet! But you ought to get a machine to work
with a horse; then a couple of men can do ever so many square feet
in a day."

Lars Peter became thoughtful. Ideas and advice had been poured into
him and he would have liked to go thoroughly through them and digest
them one by one. But Johannes gave him no time.

The next minute he was by the clay-pit. There was uncommonly fine
material for bricks, he thought.

Ay, Lars Peter knew it all only too well. The first summer he was
married, Soerine had made bricks to build the outhouse and it had
stood all kinds of weather. But one pair of hands could not do
everything.

And thus Johannes went from one thing to the other. He was observant
and found ways for everything; there was no end to his plans. Lars
Peter had to attend; it was like listening to an old, forgotten
melody. Marsh, clay-pit and the rest had said the same year after
year, though more slowly; now he had hardly time to follow. It was
inspiriting, all at once to see a way out of all difficulties.

"Look here, brother," said he, as they were at dinner, "you put
heart into a man again. How'd you like to stay on here? Then we
could put the place in order together. There's not much in that
roving business after all."

Johannes seemed to like the idea--after all, the highroad was
unsatisfactory as a means of livelihood!

During the day they talked it over more closely and agreed how to
set about things; they would share as brothers both the work and
what it brought in. "But what about the machine?" said Lars Peter.
"That must be returned."

"Oh, never mind that," said Johannes. "The man can't use it; he's
ill."

"Ay, but when he gets up again, then he'll have nothing to earn his
living; we can't have that on our conscience. I'm going down to the
beach tomorrow for a load of herrings, so I'll drive round by
Hundested and put it off there. There's sure to be a fisherman
who'll take it over with him. I'd really thought of giving up the
herring trade; but long ago I bound myself to take a load, and there
should be a good catch these days."

At three o'clock next morning Lars Peter was ready in the yard to
drive to the fishing village; at the back of the c