No, this is the first time. I promised them last spring that if they were good and worked hard I would bring them, and they have surely earned it. It's past belief how much they can do, no older than they are.

_Halla._

Did you see the last flock? That was a large one. (_Goes toward the background._)

_Jon's Wife._ Indeed it was.

_Jon._

My brown bell-wether was the leader of the flock. He generally stays in the hills till they gather in the sheep for the last time, unless there are signs of bad weather. (_Gudfinna crosses over to the peasant women and fingers their clothes. They stand talking together._)

_First Peasant._

I should not wonder if the winter were to come early after so good a summer.

_Second Peasant._

G.o.d knows how many sheep the hills have taken this year! Do you remember those cold days in the spring? It may be a good many lambs froze to death.

_First Peasant._

And then those cursed foxes!

_Jon._

The foxes are nothing to the men-- both those down here and those in the hills.

_Second Peasant._

I don't believe there is anybody living in the hills, at least not in these parts.

_Jon._

You don't believe it? I tell you, my good man, there are more outlaws than you think. To my mind, the laws are to blame for it. If I had my say, all thieves would be strung up.

_Second Peasant._

Well, I look at it in another way. I believe the laws are too strict. It seems to me it is making too much of the sheep, when a man is locked up for life because he has stolen two or three of them.

_Jon._

You always have to be of a different mind from anybody else.

(_Halla comes back and listens._)

_Second Peasant._

I don't know about that, but those who flee to the hills do it from need. If the laws were milder, I believe there would be no outlaws. What do you say, Arngrim?

_Arngrim._

If we were all to be judged by our thoughts, the hills would be swarming with outlaws.

_Halla._

It is too light yet to be talking about thieves. Can't you tell us something funny?

_Jon's Wife._ Tell about our calf.

_Jon (laughing)._

When he saw the sun for the first time in his life, he fell down on his tail from fright.

_Enter Arnes, somewhat intoxicated._

_Jon._

There comes the man who can tell us stories. (_Rises and goes to meet him._)

_Arnes._

Good day to you all! So you want a story?

_Jon._

You shall have a drink if you tell us a story, but it must be a good one.

_Arnes._

Hand me the bottle. (_Drinks._) I could tell you some spook stories that would make your hair stand on end, but they are better told in the gloaming. (_Laughs._) The girls are less afraid of us men folks when they hear about spooks.

_Jon (laughing)._

Yes, of two evils men are better than spooks.

_Arnes (sees Halla)._

Now I know what I shall tell you. Hush! Once upon a time there were two outlaws. What their crime had been I don't know, but they had to flee to the hills to save their lives. They found a green spot among the glaciers, hemmed in by huge rocks. There they built their hut, for there they knew they would be left in peace. But the hills were hankering for their old loneliness and hated those two, and swore they would drive them away. First they sent the storms and the frost. There came a winter night so terrible that the roots of the gra.s.s trembled with fear under the snow, but unknown to those two their love had built an invisible wall around the hut, and the storm and the snow could not get in. Then the hills sent hunger. It came to them in their dreams, tempting them with sweet-smelling hot bread and b.u.t.ter fresh from the churn. It would have them barter their love--

_Enter a Farm Hand._

_The Farm Hand._

Is Arnes here by any chance?

_Arnes._

Here I am.