rushed down into the water, where they came to a stand; every time they
moved their heads the tinkling of their bells was heard across the
lake. The dogs drank a little, but stayed behind on firm land; the
herd-boys followed, and seated themselves on the warm, smooth
hill-side. Here they drew forth their lunch boxes, exchanged with one
another, bragged about their dogs, oxen, and the family they lived
with, then undressed, and sprang into the water with the cows. The
dogs persisted in not going in; but loitered lazily around, their heads
hanging, with hot eyes and lolling tongues. Round about on the slopes
not a bird was to be seen, not a sound was heard, save the prattling of
children and the tinkling of bells; the heather was parched and dry,
the sun blazed on the hill-sides, so that everything was scorched by
its heat.

It was Oyvind who was sitting up there in the mid-day sun, waiting. He
sat in his shirt-sleeves, close by the brook which flowed from the
lake. No one yet appeared on the Heidegard plain, and he was gradually
beginning to grow anxious when suddenly a large dog came walking with
heavy steps out of a door in Nordistuen, followed by a girl in white
sleeves. She tripped across the meadow toward the cliff; he felt a
strong desire to shout down to her, but dared not. He took a careful
survey of the gard to see if any one might come out and notice her, but
there seemed to be no danger of detection, and several times he rose
from impatience.

She arrived at last, following a path by the side of the brook, the dog
a little in advance of her, snuffing the air, she catching hold of the
low shrubs, and walking with more and more weary gait. Oyvind sprang
downward; the dog growled and was hushed; but as soon as Marit saw
Oyvind coming she sat down on a large stone, as red as blood, tired and