glare of spring,
he is wearing smoked glasses. He talks as brilliantly as ever.
"Luckiest thing in the world," says he. "Save me going all the way up
to Sellanraa; and I've a deal to look after. How many settlers are
there in the _Almenning_ now?"

"Ten."

"Ten new holdings. I'll agree. I'm satisfied. But 'tis
two-and-thirty-thousand men of your father's stamp the country wants.
Ay, that's what I say, and I mean it; I've reckoned it out."

"Sivert, are you coming on?" The caravan is waiting.

Geissler hears, and calls back sharply: "No."

"I'll come on after," calls Sivert, and sets down his load.

The two men sit down and talk. Geissler is in the right mood today;
the spirit moves him, and he talks all the time, only pausing when
Sivert puts in a word or so in answer, and then going on again. "A
mighty lucky thing--can't help saying it. Everything turned out just
as I wanted all the way up, and now meeting you here and saving all
the journey to Sellanraa. All well at home, what?"

"All well, and thank you kindly."

"Got up that hayloft yet, over the cowshed?"

"Ay, 'tis done."

"Well, well--I've a heap of things to look to, almost more than I can
manage. Look at where we're sitting now, for instance. What d'you say
to that, Sivert man? Ruined city, eh? Men gone about to build it all
against their nature and well-being. Properly speaking, it's all
my fault from the start--that is to say, I'm a humble agent in the
workings of fate. It all began when your father picked up some bits
of stone up in the hills, and gave you to play with when you were a
child. That was how it started. I knew well enough those bits of stone
were worth exactly as much as men would give for them, no more; well
and good, I set a price on them myself, and bought them. Then the
stones passed from hand to hand, and did no end of damage. Time went
on. And now, a few days ago, I came up here again, and what for, d'you
think? To buy those stones back again!"

Geissler stops for a moment, and looks at Sivert. Then suddenly he
glances at the sack, and asks: "What's that you're carrying?"

"Goods," says Sivert. "We're taking them down to the village."

Geissler does not seem interested in the answer; has not even heard
it, like as not. He goes on:

"Buy them back again--yes. Last time, I let my son manage the deal; he
sold them then. Young fellow about your own age, that's all about him.
He's the lightning in the family, I'm more a sort o