his powerful breast; but it lies close on his back, and reveals the
play of his muscles. Every time he strikes a blow the air whistles--
_whew!_--and the walls and timber-stacks echo the sound. People
come hurrying by, stop short at a certain distance, and stand there
looking on. A little group stands there all the time, newcomers
taking the place of those that move on, like spectators in front of
a cage of lions. It is as though they expect something to happen--
something that will stagger everybody and give the bystanders a good
fright.

Pelle goes right up to the "Great Power." The "strong man" is the
father of Jens, the second youngest apprentice. "Good-day," he says
boldly, and stands right in the giant's shadow. But the stonecutter
pushes him to one side without looking to see who it is, and
continues to hew at the granite: _whew! whew!_

"It is quite a long time now since he has properly used his
strength," says an old townsman. "Is he quieting down, d'you
think?"

"He must have quieted down for good," says another. "The town ought
to see that he keeps quiet." And they move on, and Pelle must move
on, too--anywhere, where no one can see him.

"Cobbler, wobbler, groats in your gruel,
Smack on your back goes the stick--how cruel!"

It is those accursed street-urchins. Pelle is by no means in a
warlike humor; he pretends not to see them. But they come up close
behind him and tread on his heels, and before he knows what is