began
to unload. A dead calf, a half-rotten pig and another calf just
alive. He had bought them on the neighboring farms, and had still
some money left.

"Ay, that's all very well, but what are you going to do with it
all?" broke out Lars Peter amazed.

"You'll see that soon enough," answered Johannes, running in and
out.

There was dash and energy in him, he sang and whistled, as he
bustled about. The big porch was cleared, and a tree-stump put in as
a block; he lit a wisp of hay to see if there was a draught
underneath the boiler. The children stood open-mouthed gazing at
him, and Lars Peter shook his head, but did not interfere.

He cut up the dead calf, skinned it, and nailed the skin up in the
porch to dry. Then it was the sick calf's turn, with one blow it was
killed, and its skin hung up beside the other.

Ditte and Kristian were set to clean the guts, which they did very
unwillingly.

"Good Lord, have you never touched guts before?" said Johannes.

"A-a-y. But not of animals that had died," answered Ditte.

"Ho, indeed, so you clean the guts while they're alive, eh? I'd like
to see that!"

They had no answer ready, and went on with their work--while
Johannes drew in the half-dead horse, and went for the ax. As he ran
across the yard, he threw the ax up into the air and caught it again
by the handle; he was in high spirits.

"Takes after the rest of the family!" thought Lars Peter, who kept
in the barn, and busied himself there. He did not like all this,
although it was the trade his race had practised for many years, and
which now took possession of the Crow's Nest; it reminded him
strongly of his childhood. "Folk may well think us the scum of the
earth now," thought he moodily.

Johannes came whistling into the barn for an old sack.

"Don't look so grumpy, old man," said he as he passed. Lars Peter
had not time to answer before he was out again. He put the sack over
the horse's head, measured the distance, and swung the ax backwards;
a strange long-drawn crash sounded from behind the sack, and the
horse sank to the ground with its skull cracked. The children looked
on, petrified.

"You'll have to give me a hand now, to lift it," shouted Johannes
gaily. Lars Peter came lingeringly across the yard, and gave a
helping hand. Shortly afterwards the horse hung from a beam, with
its head downwards, the body was cut up and the skin folded back
like a cape.

Uncle Johannes' movements became more an