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necks. Now since the King had begun to blast
the rocks for iron ore and started building a
railway he had not heard anything more about the
Troll. There was of course still the Skogsrå, the
forest witch, who was always trying to allure
people deeper into the woods where they would
miss their way. Sometimes she called with the
voice of a bird, sometimes with the soft voice of a
woman. Many people said she was a real woman
very wicked and very beautiful. If you met her
in the forest, you must run away at once, if you
turned your head to look at her a single time you
were lost. You must never sit down under a
tree in the forest when the moon is full. She
would then come and sit down by your side and
throw her arms round you like a woman does
when she wants a man to love her. All she
wanted to do was to suck the blood out of your
heart.
“Had she very large, dark eyes?” I asked
uneasily.
Lars Anders did not know, he had never seen
her but his wife’s brother had met her one
moonlit night in the woods. He had lost his sleep, he
had never been right in the head ever since.
Were there any Goblins in this neighbourhood?
Yes, there were plenty of Little People sneaking
about in the dusk. There was one little goblin
living in the cow-stable, the grandchildren had
often seen him. He was quite harmless as long as
he was left in peace and had his bowl of porridge
put out for him in its usual corner. It would
not do to scoff at him. Once a railway engineer
who was to build the bridge over the river had
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