ell, and she, no doubt, knows it already. Hund
was born and reared a good way to the south, not far from Bergen. In
mid-winter four years since, his master sent him on an errand of twenty
miles, to carry some provisions to a village in the upper country. He
did his errand, and so far all was well. The village people asked him
for charity to carry three orphan children on his sledge some miles on
the way to Bergen, and to leave them at a house he had to pass on his
road, where they would be taken care of till they could be fetched from
Bergen. Hund was an obliging young fellow then, and he made no
objection. He took the little things, and saw that the two elder were
well wrapped up from the cold. The third he took within his arms and on
his knee as he drove, clasping it warm against his breast. So those say
who saw them set off; and it is confirmed by one who met the sledge on
the road, and heard the children prattling to Hund, and Hund laughing
merrily at their little talk. Before they had got half-way, however, a
pack of hungry wolves burst out upon them from a hollow to the right of
the road. The brutes followed close at the back of the sledge, and--"

"O, stop!" cried Erica; "I know that story. Is it possible that Hund is
the man? No need to go on, Ulla."

But Ulla thought there was always need to finish a story that she had
begun, and she proceeded.

"Closer and closer the wolves pressed, and it is thought Hund saw one
about to spring at his throat. It was impossible for the horse to go
faster than it did, for it went like the wind; but so did the beasts.
Hund snatched up one of the children behind him, and threw it over the
back of the sledge, and this stopped the pack for a little. On galloped
the horse, but the wolves were soon crowding round again, with the blood
freezing on their muzzles. It was easier to throw the second child than
the first, and Hund did it. It was harder to give up the third--the
dumb infant that nestled to his breast, but Hund was in mortal terror;
and a man beside himself with terror has all the cruelty of a pack of
wolves. Hund flung away the infant, and just saved himself. Nobody at
home questioned him, for nobody knew about the orphans, and he did not
tell. But he was unsettled and looked wild; and his talk, whenever he
did speak, night or day, was of wolves, for the three days that he
remained after his return. Then there was a questioning along the road
about the