Full resolution (TIFF) - On this page / på denna sida - Chapter III. The Pony.
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his father how he had received lashes of the whip, and buffets
from the officer, his voice trembled so greatly, that his words were
difficult to be understood; for the sight of the pony, who laid
there motionless and stiff, and the thought that the only means
of his father’s livelihood had gone to the grave, seized hold of
Ivar’s soul, mingled with natural thought concerning his own
future life.
When his story, to which his father had listened attentively,
had come to an end, his father said, "You have spoken and acted
as a man should;" but Ivar’s heart was joyless af the praise
bestowed upon him, for his pony was dead, and his father was
poorer than ever.
"I shall bury him deeply in the forest, close to the old oak-tree,"
said he, after a pause; "and often, when I am weary of my
work, I shall sit down on the mound, and will talk with the dead,
as I have been wont to do. He will neigh no more; but I shall
imagine that I hear his dear neigh replying to my words!"
His father shook his head mournfully; he understood well
the feelings of his dear son.
"Will you help me bear him off? But I think it will be best
that I should go in advance, and dig a grave for him."
"Well, do so, Ivar; but in the meantime, go in the house
and get somcthing to eat; to-night I will talk to Olaves, that
he –"
"For what purpose, father?" interrupted Ivar, and a cold
shudder passed over him. "I hope you will not. No! you will
not be so cruel to the poor pony, who has served you so
faithfully?’
"We are poor people," said Christopher, with the
immovableness of a wild savage; "it must be."
"I have never felt before how bad it was to be poor," replied
Ivar, sadly, suffering his tears to fall upon the body of his dead
pony. During the first few days, after this sad event, the lonely
inhabitants of the forest-cot walked around singly, in a
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