he felt safe as he had never felt before. All this had been his
through many generations, down to the rags thrust into the broken
window-panes and the lumber piled upon the thatch to secure it. Here
was nothing for any one to rack his brains over, as elsewhere in the
world; here a man could lie down at peace and rest. Yet it was not
for him to till the ground and to dwell amid all these things. For
he had outgrown them, as he had outgrown the shelter of his mother's
skirts.

The lane gradually became a deep cart-track, which meandered between
rocks and moorland. Pelle knew that he ought to keep to the east,
but the track went now to the south, now to the north. He soon had
enough of it, noted his direction exactly, and struck off obliquely.
But it was difficult to make his way; the moonlight deceived his
eyes so that he stumbled and sank into hollows, while the heather
and the juniper reached as high as his waist, and hampered every
movement. And then he turned obstinate, and would not turn back to
the cart-track, but labored forward, so that he was soon steaming
with heat; clambering over slanting ridges of rock, which were
slippery with the dewfall on the moss, and letting himself tumble
at hazard over the ledges. A little too late he felt a depth below
him; it was as though a cold wave washed through his heart, and he
clutched wildly at the air for some support. "Father Lasse!" he
cried woefully; and at the same moment he was caught by brambles,
and sank slowly down through their interwoven runners, which struck
their myriad claws into him and reluctantly let him pass, until he
was cautiously deposited, deep down among the sharp stones at the
bottom of a ravine, shuddering and thanking his stars for all the
thorns that had mercifully flayed his hide in order that he should
not split his skull. Then he must needs grope forward, through the