"But he's been out and about now this last week, and getting used to
things."

Isak was silent. He took a big knife, hung it in a sheath at his
waist, and led out the bull.

A mighty beast it was, glossy-coated and terrible to look at, swaying
at the buttocks as it walked. A trifle short in the leg; when it ran,
it crushed down the undergrowth with its chest; it was like a railway
engine. Its neck was huge almost to deformity; there was the strength
of an elephant in that neck.

"If only he doesn't get mad with you," said Inger.

Isak thought for a moment. "Why, if as he takes it that way, I'll just
have to slaughter him half-way and carry down the meat."

Inger sat down on the door-slab. She was in pain; her face was aflame.
She had kept her feet till Isak was gone; now he and the bull were
out of sight, and she could give way to a groan without fear. Little
Eleseus can talk a little already; he asks: "Mama hurt? "--"Yes,
hurt." He mimics her, pressing his hands to his sides and groaning.
Little Sivert is asleep.

Inger takes Eleseus inside the house, gives him some things to play
with on the floor, and gets into bed herself. Her time was come. She
is perfectly conscious all the while, keeps an eye on Eleseus, glances
at the clock on the wall to see the time. Never a cry, hardly a
movement; the struggle is in her vitals--a burden is loosened and
glides from her. Almost at the same moment she hears a strange cry in
the bed, a blessed little voice; poor thing, poor little thing ... and
now she cannot rest, but lifts herself up and looks down. What is
it? Her face is grey and blank in a moment, without expression or
intelligence; a groan is heard; unnatural, impossible--a choking gasp.

She slips back on the bed. A minute passes; she cannot rest, the
little cry down there in the bed grows louder, she raises herself once
more, and sees--O God, the direst of all! No mercy, no hope--and this
a girl!

Isak could not have gone more than a couple of miles or so. It was
hardly an hour since he had left. In less than ten minutes Inger had
borne her child and killed it....

Isak came back on the third day, leading a half-starved yearling bull.
The beast could hardly walk; it had been a long business getting up to
the place at all.

"How did you get on?" asked Inger. She herself was ill and miserable
enough.

Isak had managed very well. True, the big bull had been mad the last
two miles or so, and he had to tie it u