lity for the
smaller animals during the whole summer, and who was to bring them home
in the autumn fat and glossy. She and the head milkmaid had their
special responsibilities, each at her own end of the line, as it were;
and even if Lisbeth's was only the tail end, she did not wish to have
the disgrace of being unable to keep it in order.

The procession continued mounting higher and higher, and soon the whole
valley lay below, deep and wide and delicately green. The fir trees
became smaller and more scattered, the slender birches grew closer
together. Before long the first specimens of black crowberries and "old
woman's switches" (dwarf birch trees) were seen; and with that the
procession was up over the crest of the mountain side.

[Illustration: THE VALLEY AND THE FARMS]

Then, all at once, it seemed as if a heavy weight slipped off; as if
all weariness was smoothed away from man and beast. The whole mountain
sent its freshness and peace streaming over them. They were in a new
world. Before them, with its boundless surface broken into level spaces
and undulating slopes, lay the mountain top, stretching itself far, far
away, until lost in the deepening blue of a snow-streaked summit. If
they looked back, the valley seemed to have sunk out of sight; but on
the mountain top across the valley they could see wide expanses of open
land dotted with shining water and grassy saeter districts.

Drawing a long breath, all gazed silently around. What a tranquillity
lay over everything! Of their own accord the animals fell into order
along the stony road curving endlessly beyond them. They made no more
attempts to branch off into side paths, but walked slowly along at an
even pace. That gave Lisbeth a little time to view her surroundings.
She had never seen a place so broad and open. And up here she was to
spend the whole bright summer.

All at once, in the midst of this vastness and space, Lisbeth felt
herself so wonderfully little! But she was not at all terrified; she
only felt very solemn and peaceful.

She began to think of the future,--of the rest of the day, the coming
summer, and the many summers that would follow. Sometime she herself
would be big and grown up, like the head milkmaid, whom she could now
see sitting on the high saddle far ahead. Sometime she herself would
sit up there, perhaps, and ride at the front.

The pack horses refused to go slowly now, even under their heavy loads.
They forged ahead, passe