Full resolution (TIFF) - On this page / på denna sida - Chapter I. The hero.
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"Never talk that way again, because you will put your father
in bad spirits for a long time."
"What does it mean?" inquired Ivar, in a low tone.
"If your father wished that you should have known it, he
would have told you so himself" replied his mother, in a
reproachful manner.
"Hallo! hallo! open, in there!" a loud voice was suddenly
heard exclaiming outside, and a couple of violent and hasty
strokes were made upon the door.
"There we have it again," said Cristopher, grumbling, and
turned hastily round; "that is Swen, the wagon-master’s voice.
Open, boy; I knew that both horse and man would not enjoy
rest for three successive nights."
"You need not drive, father; let me go," said Ivar, beseechingly,
and approached the door.
"You have been in the woods the whole day," was the short
reply.
"And you have been in Nilsperson’s barn, thrashing, all the
day," replied Ivar, almost savagely, and, without waiting for his
father’s answer, he opened the door. The wagon-master sprang
through the door, with a cry,
"Skjut, in a moment, within half an hour, a gentleman will
arrive who is going as a courier to Norway, and if everything is
not ready at a moment’s warning, may God save both you and
me! Therefore, make haste, Father Christopher, it is your turn
to-day. Here is your ticket."
"Well, I should not think there was so much need of haste,"
replied Cristopher, and lighting his pipe, which lay on the
window, told Ivar to be in haste, and asked his coat from his
wife. But Ivar was not so easily silenced, and as his white pony
had to go at any rate, he was inwardley rejoiced that the skjut
had been announced in the night; he would now be allowed to
ride out in the dark night, through the still darker forest, and
hear the storm howl around him, like the roaring of a cataract;
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