"Good evening, Hr. Bogstad," said she, "are you not lost?"

"I was, nearly, until I heard you calling your cows. It is a long way up
here--but the air and the scenery are grand."

"Yes, do you think so? I don't know anything about what they call grand
scenery. I've always lived up here, and it's work, work all the
time--but those cows are slow coming home." She lifted her _lur_ to her
lips and once more made the woods ring.

Down at the foot of the hills, where the pines gave place to small,
grassy openings, stood a group of log huts, towards which the cows were
now seen wending.

"Come, Hr. Bogstad, I see the cows are coming. I must go down to meet
them."

They went down the hill together. The lowing cows came up to the
stables, and as the herd grew larger there was a deafening din. A girl
was standing in the doorway of one of the cabins, timidly watching the
noisy herd.

"Come, give the cows their salt," laughingly shouted Hansine to her.

"And get hooked all to pieces? Not much."

"You little coward. What good would you be on a _saeter_? What do you
think, Hr. Bogstad?"