"So you've got crisp-bread after all," I said.

"If you knew anything about it, you wouldn't talk like that," the man
replied. "When I'm crossing the fjeld on foot, walking and walking, don't
I need food to put in my belly? It's blasphemy to listen to you!"

Neatly and carefully he put everything back into the sack, each article in
its turn. He took pains to build up the rolls of tobacco round the bacon,
to protect the cloth from grease stains.

"You might buy this cloth from me," he said. "I'll
let you have it cheap. It's duffle. It only gets in my way."

"How much do you want for it?" I asked.

"There's enough for a whole suit of clothes, maybe more," he said to
himself as he spread it out.

I said to the man:

"Truly you come here into the forest bringing with you life and the world
and intellectual values and news. Let us talk a little. Tell me something:
are you afraid your footprints will be visible tomorrow if there's fresh
snow tonight?"

"That's my business. I've crossed the field before and I know many paths,"
he muttered. "I'll let you have the cloth for a few crowns."

I shook my head, so the man again neatly folded the cloth and put it back