ace where it
was good to be. And he closed his eyes, and lay listening to the murmur
of a little stream outside in the light summer night, till he fell
asleep.

Late in the forenoon of the next day he was awakened by the entry of the
old woman with coffee. Then a plunge into the blue-green water of
the mountain lake, a short swim, and back to find grilled trout and
new-baked waffles and thick cream for lunch.

Yes, said the old woman, if he could get along with the sort of victuals
she could cook, he might stay here a few days and welcome. The bed was
standing there empty, anyway.

Chapter III

So Peer stays on and goes fishing. He catches little; but time goes
leisurely here, and the summer lies soft and warm over the brown and
blue hillsides. He has soon learned that a merchant named Uthoug,
from Ringeby, is living in the house on the island, with his wife and
daughter. And what of it?

Often he would lie in his boat, smoking his pipe, and giving himself
up to quiet dreams that came and passed. A young girl in a white boat,
moving over red waters in the evening--a secret meeting on an island--no
one must know just yet. . . . Would it ever happen to him? Ah, no.

The sun goes down, there come sounds of cow-bells nearing the saeters,
the musical cries and calls of the saeter-girls, the lowing of the
cattle. The mountains stand silent in the distance, their snow-clad tops
grown golden; the stream slides rippling by, murmuring on through the
luminous nights.

Then at last came the day of all days.

He had gone out for a long tramp at random over the hills, making his
way by compass, and noting landmarks to guide him back. Here was a marsh
covered with cloud-berries--the taste brought back his own childhood. He
wandered on up a pale-brown ridge flecked with red heather--and what was
that ahead? Smoke? He made towards it. Yes, it was smoke. A ptarmigan
fluttered out in front of him, with a brood of tiny youngsters at her
heels--Lord, what a shave!--he stopped short to avoid treading on them.
The smoke meant someone near--possibly a camp of Lapps. Let's go and
see.

He topped the last mound, and there was the fire just below. Two girls
jumped to their feet; there was a bright coffee-kettle on the fire, and
on the moss-covered ground close by bread and butter and sandwiches laid
out on a paper tablecloth.

Peer stopped short in surprise. The girls gazed at him for a moment, and
he at them, all three with a