It was past midnight when he at last reached the outbuildings of
Stone Farm. He was breathless, and had a stitch in his side. He
leaned against the ruined forge, and closed his eyes, the better to
recover himself. As soon as he had recovered his breath, he entered
the cowshed from the back and made for the herdsman's room. The
floor of the cowshed felt familiar to his feet, and now he came in
the darkness to the place where the big bull lay. He breathed in
the scent of the creature's body and blew it out again--ah, didn't
he remember it! But the scent of the cowherd's room was strange to
him. "Father Lasse is neglecting himself," he thought, and he pulled
the feather-bed from under the sleeper's head. A strange voice began
to upbraid him. "Then isn't this Lasse?" said Pelle. His knees were
shaking under him.

"Lasse?" cried the new cowherd, as he sat upright. "Do you say Lasse?
Have you come to fetch that child of God, Mr. Devil? They've been
here already from Hell and taken him with them--in the living body
they've taken him there with them--he was too good for this world,
d'ye see? Old Satan was here himself in the form of a woman and took
him away. You'd better go there and look for him. Go straight on
till you come to the devil's great-grandmother, and then you've only
got to ask your way to the hairy one."

Pelle stood for a while in the yard below and considered. So Father
Lasse had gone away! And wanted to marry, or was perhaps already
married. And to Karna, of course. He stood bolt-upright, sunk in
intimate memories. The great farm lay hushed in moonlight, in
deepest slumber, and all about him rose memories from their sleep,
speaking to him caressingly, with a voice like that contented
purring, remembered from childhood, when the little kittens used