"But that homely old woman was next in rank to the queen. She was the one who went off to walk with the queen at the foot of Glory Peak."

Just then came a call for Lisbeth. She hesitated a moment, then stretched out her little hand and said: "Good-by. May you both fare well. Thanks for this summer."

"Thanks to you for the same," said Ole. "We are to meet again, then, next summer?"

"Yes."

"May you fare well," said Peter.

He stood holding her hand awhile; then, thinking he ought to say something more, he added, "I will greet Jacob from you, Lisbeth."

After that the boys vanished along the fence as noiselessly as they had come.

Inside the saeter inclosure the farm hands were putting the packs on the horses, and the military horse had been led to the gate. Lisbeth ran into the inclosure, drove her animals together and counted them, certainly for the tenth time that day. Soon everything stood ready for the homeward march.

The milkmaid appeared in the doorway, clad in her Sunday best, as on the day she came. She closed the saeter door with a bang, turned the large key solemnly in the lock, took it out and put it in her pocket.

That key she would not intrust to any one else; she wanted to deliver it to Kjersti Hoel with her own hand. After trying the door vigorously to be sure that it was securely locked, she went to the window and looked in to a.s.sure herself that everything was in order and the fire entirely out. Then, going over to the military horse, she climbed into the saddle. One of the farm hands opened the gate for her as if she had been a queen, and out she rode.

After her followed the pack horses, one by one, and the cows in the same order as when they came up,--the bell cow, Brindle, and the whole long line. Behind the cows came the smaller animals, and, last of all, Lisbeth Longfrock with a stick in her hand, her birch-bark hat on her head, and her lunch bag on her back.

Lisbeth turned and looked at the scene she was leaving. There lay the saeter, desolate now. The mountain, too, appeared lonely and forsaken.

Of course she, like all the others, had longed for home during these last days; but it was strange, after all, for her to be going away from everything up here. A little of the same feeling she had had when leaving Peerout Castle crept over her. How singular that she should happen to recall that sad time just at this moment! She had not thought of it at all since coming up on the mountain,--not once during the whole long summer.

Nor would she think of it now; there were other and happier things to remember. G.o.d be praised, all had gone well at the saeter, and the whole procession was on its way home. She was taking her animals safely back,--all except Crookhorn. Of her she had seen nothing since that day when the boys had tried to tame her; but she had heard that far off on the mountain a big goat went about with a herd of horses.

All day long the great procession went on its way over the mountain in steady, plodding fashion. The animals were fatter and heavier than in the spring; they trod the hills with a brisker and firmer step, and none showed any sign of being tired or lagging behind. The milkmaid was rosy-cheeked and plump ("b.u.t.terpack" she was always called in the autumn). As she and Lisbeth looked at the procession, one from the front and the other from the rear, they agreed in thinking that the animals, as well as the b.u.t.ter and cheese, were such as they need not be ashamed to take home to Kjersti Hoel.

Evening was drawing near, when suddenly the road pitched down over the edge of the mountain, the valley began to open before them, and they could even catch a glimpse of the slope on the other side. Every one looked over there, but all that could be seen as yet was a strip along the uppermost edge. The only one to distinguish a house upon the strip was Lisbeth Longfrock. Away up and off to one side she saw the setting sun glittering on a little pane of gla.s.s in a low gray hut. That hut was Peerout Castle.

Then all at once they came out upon the open mountain side, and the whole valley lay before them, broad and peaceful, with its yellow fields and stacks of grain, its green s.p.a.ces, and its slope of birch trees flaming in yellow, with here and there a red mountain ash among them. And over across they spied Hoel,--large, substantial, and well cared for,--with its broad, shining windows and its general air of comfort. Smoke was issuing from its chimney,--such an inviting, coffee-suggesting, welcoming smoke! Kjersti had probably hung the coffee kettle over the fire already, so as to receive them in a suitable manner.

The whole procession now began to show more life. Every member of it knew that Kjersti Hoel stood over there in the window watching the long line as it curved down the open slope. All moved forward more quickly.

The horses hurried ahead; the cows began to trot, the bell cow sending out an eager Moo-oo! across the valley; the bells jingled merrily; and Lisbeth Longfrock trilled a vigorous call through her little goat horn.

They wanted every one to hear that the great company of animals belonging to Hoel Farm was now coming back again.

Thus they hastened down to the bottom of the valley and then up the opposite side. It was not long before they were actually at home.

Kjersti Hoel herself stood at the cow-house door and opened it for them. The cows recognized her, and each one of them, as they went by her in turn, received a word or a pat on the head; after which, proud and satisfied, they went to their separate stalls,--not a single cow making a mistake. They went swiftly, too, for they knew that there was something good in the mangers to welcome them. And they needed something, surely, for there had not been time to eat anything along the road that day.

When the milkmaid had dismounted from her horse Kjersti took her hand and said, "Welcome home!" Then Kjersti went over to the door of the sheep barn, opened that also, and counted the goats and sheep as they went in; and when Lisbeth Longfrock came following in their wake, Kjersti took her hand also and said, "Welcome home!"

"But," faltered Lisbeth, "I have not brought Crookhorn back with me."

"No, I see that you have not; and it is a good thing. Now we shall be rid of her capers for a while. You have been a faithful and capable little worker, there is no doubt of that. And how you have grown! Why, your long frock is far above your toes now!"

Then the milkmaid and Lisbeth fastened the cows in their stalls, while Kjersti went to watch the unloading of the packs and to look at the tubs and boxes containing the b.u.t.ter and cheese that had been made at the saeter.

After that Kjersti came to them again and asked them to "Please walk in," exactly as if they were grand strangers. And when they had gone into the house they were invited into Kjersti's own sitting room, both Lisbeth and the milkmaid. Here the table was set with a welcoming meal, and oh, how delicious the food smelled! There were large hot pancakes as thin as paper, and pease bread, and hot new potatoes,--the finest feast you can give to people just home from a saeter. And Kjersti herself poured coffee for them and begged them to help themselves. Then they had to give an account of everything that had happened on the mountain; to tell about the cows,--which of them had given the most milk and which of them had stopped giving; about the sheep, goats, and pigs; and about the b.u.t.ter and cheese that had been made. And then Kjersti praised her two servants for their faithfulness and industry, and the trio rejoiced together over the success of the summer.

That evening when Lisbeth Longfrock again lay stretched out on her little bed in her room under the hall stairs and thought back over the summer and about the mountain, it seemed to her that she had had a glorious time, as delightful as could be thought of; but, all the same, it was pleasant to come home again, too,--especially when one was welcomed by such an unusually fine woman as Kjersti Hoel.

Autumn was pa.s.sing away. The leaves had fallen and the trees spread out naked branches into the cold air. In the fields where grain had grown stood only the poles, now bare and slanting, on which the crops had been stacked. The verdure of the meadows was changed to yellowish brown.

There was no more food for the animals out of doors, so slaughtering day had come. That is the end of the season for the young herder, for on that day he gives up his responsibility. Thenceforward he is no longer a person with a special duty; he must be at every one's beck and call. And when winter comes with its long evenings, when the wood fire gleams out over the huge kitchen from the great open fireplace, while wool is being carded and the spinning wheel whirs, and the farm hands make brooms out of twigs and whittle thole pins and ax handles, then must the herder sit by the pile of twigs and logs at the side of the fireplace and feed the fire so that the rest can see to work while he studies his lessons.

By the pile of wood in Kjersti Hoel's big kitchen Lisbeth Longfrock had her place on the long winter evenings. She studied and listened, and heard so many curious things talked about that it seemed as if the evenings were too short and the days too few, in spite of the long, dark Norwegian winter. Before she knew it spring had come again; and when she looked down at her long frock she found that the hem reached no farther than the tops of her ankles.

CHAPTER VIII

ON GLORY PEAK

It was again high summer, and the sun shone bright on all the mountain tops when, one morning, an ear-splitting call played on three goat horns rang suddenly out from the inclosure belonging to Hoel saeter. One call was thin and fine, the other two were heavier.

That triple signal meant "Forward, march!" Lisbeth Longfrock, Ole, and Peter were going to take their trip to Glory Peak to see the spot that had been visited by the king.

The boys now owned goat horns to blow on, and they were good ones, too; for Lisbeth Longfrock had kept her word about Crookhorn's horns and had given one to each boy.

After Crookhorn's running off with the herd of horses, things had not gone any better with that proud-minded goat. When she finally came home, late in the autumn, with the last of the horses, she was so conceited that there was no getting her to live in the barn with the other goats. They had to put her in the cow house; but not even the cow house was good enough for her after her summer experiences. Every time she got an opportunity, out she bounded, trotting over to the door of the stable as if she belonged in there. The stable boy insisted that he had even heard her neigh. One day, when the men were feeding the horses, they saw her dash in, and, with her usual self-important air, attempt to squeeze her way into the stall of the military horse. But that she should not have done. It was dark, and the military horse failed to see that it was only Crookhorn at his heels; so up went his hind legs and out went a kick that landed plump on Crookhorn's cranium and sent her flying against the stable wall. That was the last of Crookhorn.

It cannot be said that any one, except perhaps Lisbeth Longfrock, sorrowed particularly over her; but Lisbeth could not help remembering that Crookhorn had given them milk for their coffee that winter up at Peerout Castle. At any rate, if not much sorrowed for, the queer, ambitious creature was held in honorable esteem after her death. Such horns as hers Ole had never seen. Not only were they extremely large, but they gave out a peculiarly fine sound. Any one would know at once that they were not the horns of an ordinary goat. There had always been something about Crookhorn that no one understood, Ole said. Yes, Peter had noticed that too. Afterward, when he had thought a little more on the subject, he said he believed that horses' horns would have exactly the same sound as those of this remarkable goat, if there were any horses with horns!

On the day of the visit to Glory Peak the goat horns, as musical instruments, were brand-new, being used that day for the first time. In fact, the trip had been put off until they were ready.

But new goat horns were not the only things the travelers were provided with. All three wore their best clothes, and each carried a lunch bag full of food on his back and a stout stick in his hand. The trip was so long that it would take a whole day.

Once more they blew their horns,--all three together. The animals looked up in surprise at the unusual volume of sound, and the milkmaid came to the cow-house door with a smiling face. Then off the party started. The flocks were mingled together to-day, and driven straight ahead,--no time for them to graze by the wayside with Glory Peak lying so far away, blue against the sky. This excursion was a much longer one than Lisbeth had ever before taken, and even Ole and Peter had been to Glory Peak but once.

It was drawing on toward dinner time when they came to the last gentle ascent leading to the top of Glory Peak. There the juniper bushes and "old woman's switches" (dwarf birch) grew so high that the animals were quite lost to sight among them. Lisbeth and the boys could only see the course of their charges by a wavelike movement that pa.s.sed over the tops of the bushes and by the sticking up of a pair of horns here and there. Ole thought that this was a good place to leave the flocks for a time, while they themselves went on ahead. The animals were so tired and hungry that they would stay there quietly for an hour or so; then, when rested, they would be sure to follow to the peak, for a goat was never satisfied until it had mounted to the highest possible point, where it could look about in all directions. Ole's plan was a.s.sented to, and it proved to be a good one.

Ole led Lisbeth and Peter around a curve toward the north. He wanted to show them exactly where the king and queen came up on the day of their visit. To be sure, they were not really king and queen that day, but they were on the very point of being: they were crown prince and crown princess. They had left their horses down on the mountain side where the road grew too steep for driving, and had walked the rest of the way. Oh, what a large company they had with them!--the county magistrate, the district judge, and officers so richly dressed that they could scarcely move. Seven or eight of the princ.i.p.al farmers of the district were also in the company, and first among these were Nordrum, Jacob's master, and the master of Hoel Farm, who was then living. These two wore queer old-fashioned swallow-tailed coats. All around over the whole mountain top were crowds of other people gazing at the lively scene.

"The king looked wonderfully fine, didn't he?" asked Lisbeth.

"No. The county magistrate looked much finer, and so did the officers, and even the people who waited upon them. But it could easily be seen that he was the king, for he was a head taller than any of the others."

"The king must be tremendously strong," said Peter.