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THE SKJUTS-BOY.
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CHAPTER I.
THE HERO.
Sharp and piercing blew the October blast through the
creaking limbs of a dense forest, in the south-western part of
Sweden. At times it seemed as though the storm was dying
away with a long-drawn sigh; but suddenly it arose again and
renewed its battle with the giant pines, and did not rest until
these, like conquered enemies, bowed down to the ground.
Surrounded with white clouds stood the nightly watch above, in her
immovable grandeur, looking down upon the waging combat.
Upon one of the foot-paths which threaded their way through
the forest, a being hurried along with quickened footsteps, who,
as far as could be seen through the misty autumnal twilight,
seemed to be congenial with the scene. A ragged jacket allowed
the low branches of the pine and fir trees to sweep undisturbedly
his brown, manly breast; and his wiry hair, upon which his
bushy fur cap was retained with difficulty by his rough hand,
fluttered undisturbed around his sun-burnt face.
The careless son of the forest was indifferent, however, to all
these obstacles, humming a gay national song; with skilful hand
he bent aside the intruding twigs, and, when the wind blew its
most severe blast, he placed his fingers in his mouth, and responded
with a like shrill whistle. The boy, who appeared to be fourteen
or fifteen years of age, would at intervals throw his arms around
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