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clown in the town a eock crew. Everything
seemed verv stränge.
Karsten and I ran ahead and Ingeborg, the
maid, came struggling after us with our big
green tine.1 Suddenly a desperate anxiety came
over me. Suppose the steamboat should go off
and leave us! Then how we ran! We left
Ingeborg and the tine and everything else
be-hind. When we turned round the corner into
the market square, the sun streamed straight
into our eyes and there by the custom-house
wharf lay the steamboat, with steam up and
sacks of meal being put on board. Karsten
and I dashed across the square. Pshaw! we
were in plenty of time. There wasn’t a single
passenger aboard vet. It is a little steamboat,
vou know, that only goes from our town over
to Arendal. I got Karsten settled on a seat,
kneeling and facing the water, and then
estab-lishecl mvself in a jaunty, free and easy manner
by the railing as if I were accustomed to travel.
Ole Bugta and Kristen Snau and all the other
1 Tine (pronounced tee/ne) a covered wooden box with handle on
top.
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