he shouted.

"It would have made you laugh to see that little fellow talking to the big giant in this way; but the troll was a coward, as all big bl.u.s.terers are, and somehow Ashiepattle felt it. His quick mind told him that he was a human being, and wiser than all the trolls. What do you suppose the troll did, children? He cried, 'Spare me!' with a voice trembling with fear. 'If you will only spare me, I will help you cut down the trees,' he added, in haste.

"That afternoon great work was done in the forest. Many great trees were laid low; for the troll had wonderful strength in his big arms, and he showed himself a fine helper.

"When night came the troll proposed that Ashiepattle should go home with him to supper.

"'It is nearer than your house,' he said.

"So Ashiepattle went with the troll to his home in the forest.

"Before the supper could be made ready, a fire must be made in the fireplace. The troll said he would do this if Ashiepattle would draw some water from the well.

"When the boy looked at the iron buckets he should have to fill, he knew that he could not even lift them; but he was too wise to say this.

"'I won't bother with those buckets,' he told the troll; 'I will bring the well itself. Then you will be sure to have water enough.'

"'O, don't do that,' cried the troll, in fear, 'for I will have no well left. Let me get the water, while you make the fire.'

"This suited Ashiepattle, of course, for it was exactly what he wished.

The water was brought, and a great kettleful of porridge was soon ready to eat, so the troll and the boy sat down together at the table.

"'I can eat more than you, although you are so much larger,' said Ashiepattle to his host.

"'Let us see you try,' said the troll, who felt sure he could beat the boy.

"What do you think Ashiepattle did? When the troll was not looking, he seized the bag in which he had kept the cheese, and, fastening it in front of him, he slipped most of the porridge he received into that, instead of his mouth. At last it was quite full. Ashiepattle then took his knife and cut a hole in it, while the troll watched him in wonder.

After awhile the giant exclaimed:

"'I really can't eat any more. I shall have to admit you have beaten me.'

"'Didn't you see what I did?' cried his visitor. 'If you cut a hole in your stomach as you saw me do, you can eat as long as you wish.'

"'But didn't it hurt terribly?' asked the troll.

"'No, indeed. Try it and see for yourself,' replied Ashiepattle, laughing inside all the while.

"The troll did as he was told, and you may guess what happened. He fell on the floor in agony and died in a few moments.

"And what did our brave little Ashiepattle do? He searched for the stores of gold and silver belonging to the troll, and soon succeeded in finding them. He started for home in great glee, for now he could pay his father's debt and free the old man from trouble."

"Listen," cried Henrik, as his father finished the story. "There is a noise outside as though something were the matter. Do you suppose foxes have dared to come near and are disturbing the hens?"

"We will soon find out," cried the farmer, jumping to his feet. "Hand me my gun from the wall, good wife, and Henrik, take yours and follow me."

They crept out of the house with as little noise as possible, while Ole and Mari flattened their noses against the window-panes. But it was pitch-dark outside, and they could see nothing.

Bang, bang! went a gun.

"They found him, they found him," shouted Ole, jumping up and down. "I do hope he was. .h.i.t."

A few minutes after, steps were heard coming back to the house. Ole rushed to the door and opened it. There stood his father holding a large red fox by the nape of the neck. The eyes of the animal were gla.s.sy, for he was quite dead.

"He was creeping away over the snow when we saw him," said the farmer, "and he had one of my finest hens in his mouth. I don't believe this was his first visit, either, for you know, wife, we have lost several fowls lately. Henrik, you and Ole may skin this sly fellow and make a mat for your mother. But it is getting late, and I must start early in the morning, so to bed, one and all."

CHAPTER VIII.

THE LUMBER CAMP

THE whole family were awake bright and early the next morning. Mari and Greta helped their mother in packing the birch-bark knapsack with the provisions their father needed to carry with him to the forest. There must be a good supply of dried meat and fish, sugar, b.u.t.ter, and flour.

Last, but not least, the coffee was packed safely inside. What would the good man and his helpers do without this refreshing drink? When they returned to the hut after a day's chilling work, a bowl of hot coffee would fill them with new life.

"Ole and I will come next week and bring you fresh supplies," said Henrik, as his father bade them good-bye and the three men started out on their snow-shoes over the crisp snow.

They were soon out of sight and the rest of the family returned to their work. But little Mari, who loved her father very tenderly, kept thinking of the hard, cold work before him. What kind of a home would he find when he got into the forest? There would be no shelter of any kind.

He and his men must go to work at once and saw some logs, with which they would build a rough hut. They would stuff the c.h.i.n.ks with moss to keep out the great cold, or else they would freeze to death.

What furniture would they have? A large, flat stone would serve as a fireplace, while the bed would be made of poles placed side by side and covered with moss. That was all. They must sleep as close to the fire as possible, and even then they would suffer greatly during the long, freezing nights.

"I am so sorry the crops failed," said Mari to her mother when she had thought of all these things. "I almost wish father had gone to work fishing this winter. I don't believe that would have been as hard work."

"The sea has its own dangers, my daughter," answered her mother. "Think of the fearful storms that rage along our coast and the sad deaths that have come to some of our friends. No, Mari, lumbering is hard work, but it is safer, I think, than fishing in the winter season."

Ole had come into the room while they were talking.

"It's cold and uncomfortable for father this winter, I know," he said, "but the greatest danger is in the spring-time, when he has to float the logs down the narrow streams to the sawmills."

"Why is that so dangerous?" asked Mari.

"Because his work isn't over when he has once launched the logs into the water. He must watch them in their course and see that they get to their journey's end. Suppose one log gets across the stream and blocks the way? Then father must wade out into the water and pull that log aside with his boat-hook. He has to spend a good deal of his time in the water, and is likely to freeze his feet, or get a terrible cold, at any rate. Perhaps he has to jump on the logs as he pulls them apart. Suppose he slips and, falling through, is jammed to death between the logs!

"There, there, Mari, dear, don't cry. I shouldn't have said all this.

Father will probably get along all right and come home safe in the spring."

Henrik put his strong arms around his little sister, and she had soon forgotten her fears and was laughing heartily over the fairy-story he was telling her.

The next week after their father left home, Henrik and Ole started out on a visit to the camp, carrying with them a stock of provisions large enough to supply the men for several days longer.

"Take your gun, Henrik," said his mother, "for you can't tell what wild creatures you may meet on the way. It would be a fine surprise for your father if you should present him with a hare or a deer. Some fresh meat would make a rare treat for the men."

The boys skimmed over mile after mile of snowy ground, and nothing unusual happened. No houses were in sight all this time, and there were no tracks of living creatures. It was lonely, and dreary, and quiet.

They were nearing their journey's end, and were climbing the side of a hill, when Henrik suddenly stopped.