"You cannot, for, alas! I know neither her new master's name nor
whither he went," said Haakon.

Then Niels, in despair, threw himself down on his bed and wept
bitterly--wept, till at last, all exhausted with the force of his
grief, he slept. How long he knew not, for in the Lapp's tent was
nothing to mark the flight of the hours; but he awoke, finally, with a
start, sat up and rubbed his eyes, and looked wildly about, saying:

"Yes, there sits father, just where I left him, and there is no one
else here. But I am sure I heard Hansa whistle to me; no one else knows
our signal, and----Oh! there--_there_ she is at the door!" and he
sprang toward her and clasped her in his arms, crying, "Hansa, my
Hansa! I have had a dream--such an ugly dream! How joyful that I am
awake at last! See, father," he said, leading her to Haakon; "have you,
too, dreamed?"

"It was no dream, boy," said his father; and, turning to Hansa, he
asked, more gently than he had ever yet spoken to her, "How came you
back, my child?"

Then Hansa, clinging closely to Niels the while, told him all that had
befallen her, and of the pleasant home she had found, and added,
boldly;

"Father, let me take these kind friends some gifts; we have _so_ much,
and I wish to make them happy."

"Take what you want, child," said Haakon. "And see! here is a bag of
silver marks; give it to Peder Olsen, and say that each year I will