t he was when he was dressed! I shall never forget it. With a
jacket that reached below his knees and Augusta's kerchief on his
head--oh, he did look so funny! But not the least shadow of a smile did
we dare allow ourselves, for he would at once have flown under the
sheepskin bedclothes again, crosser than ever. That's the way Karsten
is, you see.

Oh, pshaw! A fine rain had begun, the mountains were perfectly black,
and patches of fog lay all around.

"Perhaps you'd like to fish," said Augusta; "they usually bite in such
weather."

Trond and Olsen had begun to cut the grass around the hut, and Petter
Kloed and Karsten started off with fishing-rods over their shoulders.
You should have seen Karsten with the fishing-rod and with the kerchief
on his head.

Andrine and I wanted to help Augusta get dinner, for it was exactly like
playing in a doll-house, only much more fun! Augusta made some
cream-porridge and her face shone like a polished sun--with the heat and
the anxiety that the porridge should be good. We had salt in a paper
cornucopia, milk in wooden bowls, and shining yellow wooden spoons to
eat with.

What fun! Even if the rain were trickling down the window, we were
enjoying ourselves tremendously.

Well, now you shall hear what a hullabaloo there was at the saeter that
afternoon.

It had begun to grow dark, for it was the last of August. Trond and
Olsen had gone to another saeter to see some friends of theirs.
Immediately after dinner Petter and Karsten had gone out to fish again,
because before dinner they had caught only a baby trout about as long as
your finger. However, Karsten broiled that, insides and all.

Just as Augusta, Andrine and I were milking out in the barn, we heard a
scream that I shall never forget. I thought it was Karsten's voice, and
I was so frightened I didn't know what to do with myself. The whole moor
was so dark that nothing was to be seen. There came another scream, and
without a word Augusta ran out on the moor. But an instant after Karsten
came rushing around the corner of the barn, with face pale as death and
his hair standing straight up.

"A bear! A bear! He is after me! Oh, help! Oh, oh!"

Into the barn he dashed, Andrine and I at his heels, hastily shutting
the door. It was pitch-dark in the barn.

"Was he after you? Where is Petter?"

My heart was pounding. Bears usually knocked a barn-door in with one
whack, and here we stood in pitch-black darkness.

Karsten