in the sunshine; the reflection from their wings flashed over the
dung-heap and made the pigs lift their heads with an inquiring
grunt. Above, in their rooms the men sat playing "Sixty-six," or
tipping wooden shoes, and Gustav began to play "Old Noah" on his
concertina.

Pelle picked his way across the upper part of the yard to the big
dog-kennel, which could be turned on a pivot according to the
direction of the wind. He seated himself upon the angle of the roof,
and made a merry-go-round of it by pushing off with his foot every
time he passed the fence. Suddenly it occurred to him that he
himself was everybody's dog, and had better hide himself; so he
dropped down, crept into the kennel, and curled himself up on the
straw with his head between his fore-paws. There he lay for a little
while, staring at the fence and panting with his tongue hanging out
of his mouth. Then an idea came into his head so suddenly as to make
him forget all caution; and the next moment he was sliding full tilt
down the railing of the front-door steps.

He had done this seventeen times and was deeply engrossed in the
thought of reaching fifty, when he heard a sharp whistle from the
big coach-house door. The farm pupil stood there beckoning him.
Pelle, crestfallen, obeyed the call, bitterly regretting his
thoughtlessness. He was most likely wanted now to grease boots
again, perhaps for them all.

The pupil drew him inside the door, which he shut. It was dark,
and the boy, coming in out of the bright daylight, could distinguish
nothing; what he made out little by little assumed shapeless
outlines to his frightened imagination. Voices laughed and growled