At times the singing seemed to come from directly above him. The
singer must be going up to the peak, he thought.

She had evidently taken a winding path leading up the mountain,
where it was almost perpendicular. Here there was a thick growth of
young birches; so of course he could not see her. She seemed to be
mounting higher and higher, with the swiftness of a bird on the
wing, singing all the while.

Then Jan started to climb straight up the mountain; but in his
eagerness he strayed from the path and had to make his way through
the bewildering woods. No wonder he was left far behind! Besides he
had begun to feel as if he had a heavy weight on his chest; he
could hardly get his breath as he tramped uphill, straining his
ears to catch the song. Finally he went so slowly that he seemed
not to be moving at all.

It was not easy to distinguish voices out in the woods, where there
was so much that rustled and murmured and chimed in, as it were.
But Jan felt that he must get to where he could see the one who for
very joy went flying up the steep. Otherwise he would harbour
doubts and misgivings the rest of his life. He knew that once he
was on the mountain top, where it was barren of trees, the singer
could not elude him.

The view from the summit was glorious. From there could be seen the
whole of long Lake Löven, the green vales encircling the lake and
all the blue hills that shelter the valley. When folks from the
shut-in Ashdales climbed to the towering peak they must have