Five summers had pa.s.sed away since Lisbeth Longfrock first went up on the mountain; and no one who had not seen her during those years could have guessed that she had grown into the tall girl sitting by herself one Sunday on the stone which, so far back as any herder could remember, had been called the Pancake Stone, and which lay hidden away in a distant and lonely part of the mountain. She had grown so tall that the long frock, now used as a petticoat, came above her knees, and she no longer wore the birch-bark hat and birch-bark shoes. On this special Sunday her Sunday kerchief was on her head, and she sat with a book in her lap; for in the winter she was to go to the priest to be prepared for confirmation and in the spring she was to be confirmed.

The reading did not progress very rapidly. The book had sunk down into her lap, and her calm blue eyes, now grown so womanly and earnest, were roving from one to another of the dear familiar places about her. Her flock lay quietly around the stone, chewing the cud. Indian summer was near its close. The sky was high vaulted and the air clear and cool. As far as the eye could reach all things were sketched in sharpest outline. Hills and marshes already glowed in autumnal tints, for these make their triumphal entry on the mountains earlier than below. The sun shone tranquilly and, as it were, a little coolly also. Everything was very still. Not even the sound of a bell was heard, for the animals were taking their afternoon rest; and no movement was discernible except far, far away, where Lisbeth spied a falcon flapping out from Glory Peak.

Just as it was now had Lisbeth seen the mountain at the close of each summer all these years. It had become familiar and dear to her, and she thought to herself how unchanging it was through all its variableness, while so much else altered never to be the same again. For much had changed since she first sat on this same stone and looked out over this same landscape. Few of the animals she now took care of had belonged to her original flock; the oldest had gone out and new ones had come in.

The unlucky Morskol (Mother's Moolley) was now a full-grown cow, with horns of more than usual beauty. The former milkmaid was gone and another had taken her place. Ole and Peter, with whom Lisbeth in earlier years had tended her flock almost daily, were her companions no longer. They had not been up at the saeter since they were confirmed,--two years ago. Ole had even sailed to America. Lisbeth had missed the boys very much, and had many a time been lonely during the last two summers, for no new herders had come from the Hoegseth or Lunde farms. At home, too, at the Hoel Farm, there had been changes among the people, and Bearhunter had become blind. Lisbeth herself no longer occupied her old place by the heap of firewood in the great kitchen on winter evenings, but sat beside Kjersti on the wooden carving bench; that is, she sat there when she did not have to study her catechism or learn her hymns to be ready for school the next day.

And now still further changes were in store for her. This was to be the last summer she would be sitting up here tending her flock. What would come next? Kjersti Hoel had not said anything to her about the future,--perhaps Kjersti would not want her any longer. But Lisbeth put these thoughts aside,--she would not allow her mind to dwell on such perplexing subjects when all was so delightfully peaceful and beautiful around her. Whatever her lot might be, or wherever she might go, of one thing she was certain,--she would never forget these mountain scenes nor this stone which had always been her favorite resting place, especially since she had been so much alone; and she gazed around her again.

As her eyes wandered about she caught sight of a man far off on the marsh, sauntering along in her direction, stopping once in a while and stooping down, apparently to pluck an occasional cloudberry, for they were now beginning to ripen. This sent her thoughts into another channel.

Who could it be coming over the marsh? Not a man looking for horses, for no one goes out for that purpose on Sunday; nor a cloudberry picker, for the berries were not yet ripe enough to pay for the trouble of seeking. Surely it was some one who had made the ascent of the mountain for pleasure only. What if it should be Jacob! She had not seen him since the last autumn, and he had said then that he would come up to see her this summer. Nevertheless the young man did not look like Jacob; and Jacob, not being very well acquainted on the western mountain, would not be trying to find the Pancake Stone. Yet this person was steering his course exactly toward where she sat, and it was plain that he knew the marsh thoroughly,--where the cloudberries grew, and where it was not so wet but that you could get across. It could not possibly be----? She blushed the instant she thought of the name, and at the same moment the stranger disappeared behind a hill, so that she saw no more of him for the time.

Involuntarily she tied her kerchief freshly under her chin, stroked her light hair under the edge of the kerchief, and smoothed out the folds in her skirt. Then, sitting with her back half turned to the quarter where he might be expected to appear, she took up her book and bent her head over it as if reading.

Shortly afterward a young man shot up over the hill behind her. He had on brand-new gray woolen clothes, a "bought" scarf around his neck, and top-boots outside his trousers. He was not tall, but his figure was well knit and manly. In his youthful face, on which the merest shadow of down could be distinguished, was set a pair of brown eyes, trusting and trustworthy. He stopped a moment and looked down at the open s.p.a.ce where Lisbeth sat upon the stone with the flock of animals around her.

It was evident that he had a memory of the scene,--that he had seen that picture before. Lisbeth did not look up, but she knew he was there,--felt in her back, so to speak, that he was standing there gazing at her. He smiled and then swung his course around so as to approach her from the side, and so that the animals might have time to become gently aware of his presence and not scramble up in a flurry.

Silently he drew near to her, until at last his shadow fell upon her book. Then she looked up and their eyes met. At that both of them flushed a little, and he said hastily, "Good day, Lisbeth Longfrock."

"Good day. Why, is it you, Peter, out for a walk?"

They shook hands.

"Yes; I thought it would be pleasant to have a look at the old places again; and since Jacob was coming up to visit you, I made up my mind to keep him company."

"Is Jacob with you?"

"Yes, but he is waiting down at the saeter, for he was tired. We were out early to-day, and tomorrow we are to take home a pair of nags to Hoegseth Farm. He sent you his greeting and will see you this evening."

"Were you sure that you could find me?"

"Oh, yes! I knew just about where you would be in such weather. And, of course, it is more fun for me to ramble around here than for him, I being so familiar with the region."

He sat down beside her on the stone and gazed slowly around.

"Does it look natural here?"

"Yes, everything is unaltered. It seems only yesterday that I was here taking care of the Lunde flocks. But I hardly recognized _you_ again.

You have grown so large."

"Do you think so?"

"Yes. But still it is two years since I last saw you."

There was a short pause. Then Peter continued: "I walked over Sloping Marsh, by our bathing pond. The water has all run out."

"Yes, it has."

"I wondered if it would not be a good plan for me to build the dam up again, so that you could use the pond."

"No, you need not do that, for I have my bathing place somewhere else,--a place that no one knows about."

"Oh, have you?"

"Yes; I had it the last year that you and Ole were here, too."

"So it was there you used to be on the days that you kept away from us?"

"Yes, sometimes."

The animals began to get up and stray off, thus attracting attention.

Lisbeth made Peter look at the older goats to see if he recognized them, and she was glad to find that he did remember them all. Then she told him about the new ones; but soon that topic was exhausted and there was apparently nothing more to talk about. They still remained seated on the stone. Then Peter said, "You haven't that birch-bark hat any longer, have you, Lisbeth?"

"No; it was worn out long ago."

"But what is it you have on this string?"

He took hold carefully of a string she wore around her neck, and, pulling it, drew out from her bosom the little goat horn he had given her.

"I did not think you would have that horn still," said Peter.

A deep blush covered Lisbeth's face at the idea of appearing childish to Peter. She hastened to say, "Oh, yes; I carry it with me sometimes."

"I have mine, too. It is the only thing I have left from my herding days." And he drew one of Crookhorn's horns out of an inner pocket.

"Shall we try them?"

Then they both laughed and played "The Old Woman with a Stick"

together, as they had so often done in the old days. It did not sound as if either of them had forgotten it in the least. When the tune was finished there was another pause. At last Lisbeth said, "I must look after the animals a little now, or I shall lose track of them."

"Can't you let them go home alone to-night? It is time for them to seek the fold, and they will surely find the way safely. Then we can walk to the saeter more at our leisure."

"Yes, I will gladly. I can trust them to find their way home, I am sure."

Again there was silence for a time. Then Lisbeth rose, saying, "I think we must go now."

Peter did not stir. He merely said very quietly: "Can't you sit a little longer? There was something I wanted to ask you."

Lisbeth bowed her head and seated herself again without speaking.

"I have a greeting to you from Ole. I received a letter from him a fortnight ago. He asked me very particularly to give you his greetings."

"Thank you. Is all going well with him?"

"Yes, it seems so from his letter. He has a good place and earns large wages."

"Ole deserves it. He grew to be a fine fellow."

"Yes, he did. He asks me whether I will go to America in the spring. He will send me a ticket, if I will."

On hearing that Lisbeth looked up at Peter for an instant, then drooped her head again without saying a word. Peter continued: "It was that I wanted to ask you about. Do you wish me to go?"