ng his spade and
beginning the ditching, felt inclined to go with his brother carting
herrings. On one of the farms where they went to trade, a still-born
calf lay outside the barn; Johannes caught sight of it at once. With
one jump he was out of the cart and beside it.

"What do you reckon to do with it?" asked he, turning it over with
his foot.

"Bury it, of course," answered the farm-lad.

"Don't folks sell dead animals in these parts?" asked Johannes when
they were in the cart again.

"Why, who could they sell them to?" answered Lars Peter.

"The Lord preserve me, you're far behind the times. D'you know what,
I've a good mind to settle down here as a cattle-dealer."

"And buy up all the still-born calves?" Lars Peter laughed.

"Not just that. But it's not a bad idea, all the same; the old
butcher at home often made ten to fifteen crowns out of a calf like
that."

"I thought we were going to start in earnest at home," said Lars
Peter.

"We'll do that too, but we shall want money! Your trade took up all
your time, so everything was left to look after itself, but
cattle-dealing's another thing. A hundred crowns a day's easily
earned, if you're lucky. Let me drive round once a week, and I'll
promise it'll give us enough to live on. And then we've the rest of
the week to work on the land."

"Sounds all right," said Lars Peter hesitatingly. "There's trader's
blood in you too, I suppose?"

"You may be sure of that, I've often earned hundreds of crowns for
my master at home in Knarreby."

"But how'd you begin?" said Peter. "I've got fifty crowns at the
most, and that's not much to buy cattle with. It's put by for rent
and taxes, and really oughtn't to be touched."

"Let me have it, and I'll see to the rest," said Johannes
confidently.

The very next day he set off in the cart, with the whole of Lars
Peter's savings in his pocket. He was away for two days, which was
not reassuring in itself. Perhaps he had got into bad company, and
had the money stolen from him--or frittered it away in poor trade.
The waiting began to seem endless to Lars Peter. Then at last
Johannes returned, with a full load and singing at the top of his
voice. To the back of the cart was tied an old half-dead horse, so
far gone it could hardly move.

"Well, you seem to have bought something young!" shouted Lars Peter
scoffingly. "What've you got under the sacks and hay?"

Johannes drove the cart into the porch, closed the gates, and