ound. But they knew, they did, that in the
night it had been raised upon twelve golden pillars and that the
_trolls_ had danced and feasted under it.

It was not so very pleasant to have to walk past a stone like that!
Jan looked over at Katrina to see whether she was holding the
little girl securely. Katrina, calm and unconcerned, walked along,
chatting with one of their neighbours. She was quite oblivious,
apparently, to the terrors of the place.

The spruce trees up there were old and gnarled, and their branches
were dotted with clumps of snow. As seen in the glow of the torch
light, one could not but think that some of the trees were really
trolls, with gleaming eyes beneath snow hats, and long sharp claws
protruding from thick snow mittens.

It was all very well so long as they held themselves still. But
what if one of them should suddenly stretch forth a hand and seize
somebody? There was no special danger for grown-ups and old people;
but Jan had always heard that the trolls had a great fondness for
small children--the smaller the better. It seemed to him that
Katrina was holding the little girl very carelessly. It would be no
trick at all for the huge clawlike troll hands to snatch the child
from her. Of course he could not take the baby out of her arms in a
dangerous spot like this, for that might cause the trolls to act.

Murmurs and whispers now passed from tree-troll to tree-troll; the
branches creaked as if they were about to bestir themselves.

Jan did not dare ask the others if they saw or heard what he did. A
question of that sort might be the very thing to rouse the trolls.
In this agony of suspense he knew of but one thing to do: he struck
up a psalm-tune. He had a poor singing-voice and had never before
sung so any one could hear him. He was so weak at carrying a tune
that he was afraid to sing out even in church; but now he had to
sing, no matter how it went. He observed that the neighbours were a
little surprised. Those who walked ahead of him nudged each other
and looked round; but that did not stop him; he had to continue.

Immediately one of the womenfolk whispered to him: "Wait a bit,
Jan, and I'll help you."

She took up the Christmas carol in the correct melody and the
correct key. It sounded beautiful, this singing in the night among
the trees, and soon everybody joined in.

"Hail Blessed Morn, by prophets' holy words foretold," rang out on
the air. A murmur of anguish came from the