the conversation was at an end. His countenance was as cold as the
sky in the evening after the sun has set, and the hard lines in it
resembled the streaks in the ice on rocks and ledges where the sun's
rays had shone that day and laid bare the frozen ground.

Brandur entered the house, while Jon mounted again. They scarcely
said a word of farewell, so angry were they both.

Jon's horse set off at a brisk pace, eager to reach home, and
galloped swiftly over the hard, frozen ground. After the sun had
gone down, the wind rose and a searing cold settled over the valley,
whitening Jon's moustache where his breath passed over it.

Jon's anger grew as he sped along. Naturally hightempered, he had
lately had many reasons for anger since he took over his official
duties. The people in his district were like people the world over:
they blamed the Board constantly, accusing it of stupidity and
favouritism. Yet most of them paid their taxes reluctantly and only
when long overdue. Sometimes they were almost a year in arrears.

Jon reviewed the matter of the hay in his mind, also the other
vexations of the past. He was sick and tired of all the trouble. And
now the life of the whole district hung on a thin thread, the fate
of which depended upon the whims of the weather. Jon's nose and
cheekbones smarted from the cold; his shoes were frozen stiff, and
pinched his feet, and his throat burned with the heat of anger
rising from his breast.

Jon was rather quiet when he reached home that evening, although he
did tell his wife of his attempt to deal with her father.