"No, I don't think that would do either; but I'll speak so seriously
with him that he won't be likely to forget it in a hurry."

Pelle was quite satisfied. There was no one like his father, and
of course he would be as good at blowing people up as at everything
else. He had never heard him do it, and he was looking forward to
it immensely while he hobbled along with the boot-jack. He was not
using it as a wooden leg now, for fear of tempting Providence; but
he held it under his arm like a crutch, supporting it on the edge
of the foundation wall, because it was too short. How splendid it
would be to go on two crutches like the parson's son at home! He
could jump over the very longest puddles.

There was a sudden movement of light and shadow up under the roof,
and when Pelle turned round, he saw a strange boy standing in the
doorway out to the field. He was of the same height as Pelle, but
his head was almost as large as that of a grown man. At first sight
it appeared to be bald all over; but when the boy moved in the
sun, his bare head shone as if covered with silver scales. It was
covered with fine, whitish hair, which was thinly and fairly evenly
distributed over the face and everywhere else; and his skin was
pink, as were the whites of his eyes. His face was all drawn into
wrinkles in the strong light, and the back of his head projected
unduly and looked as if it were much too heavy.

Pelle put his hands in his trouser pockets and went up to him.
"What's your name?" he said, and tried to expectorate between his
front teeth as Gustav was in the habit of doing. The attempt was
a failure, unfortunately, and the saliva only ran down his chin.
The strange boy grinned.