bald, his face was lean and contracted, his eyes hollow and
bloodshot, and the giant neck presented wrinkles and cords. At a
glance he perceived what this man had endured, and was as suddenly
seized with a feeling of strong pity, yes, even with a touch of
the old love. In his heart he prayed for him, and promised himself
surely to seek him after service; but, ere he had opportunity,
Lars had gone. Canute resolved he would call upon him at his home
that night, but his wife kept him back.

"Lars is one of the kind," said she, "who cannot endure a debt of
gratitude: keep away from him until possibly he can in some way do
you a favor, and then perhaps he will come to you."

However, he did not come. He appeared now and then at church, but
nowhere else, and associated with no one. On the contrary, he
devoted himself to his farm and other business with an earnestness
which showed a determination to make up in one year for the
neglect of many; and, too, there were those who said it was
necessary.

Railroad operations in the valley began very soon. As the line was
to go directly past his house, Lars remodelled the side facing the
road, connecting with it an elegant verandah, for of course his
residence must attract attention. They were just engaged in this
work when the rails were laid for the conveyance of gravel and
timber, and a small locomotive was brought up. It was a fine
autumn evening when the first gravel train was to come down. Lars
stood on the platform of his house to hear the first signal, and
see the first column of smoke; all the hands on the farm were
gathered around him. He looked out over the parish, lying in the