So thought, also, old Knud, when the matter reached his ears, and said, moreover, that if there was nobody else who could tackle Thore, then he and his sons would try it. Knud, it is true, was growing old, but although he was nearly sixty, he would at times have a wrestle or two with his eldest son, when it was too dull for him at some party or other. Up to the Huseby saeter there was but one road, and that led straight through the gard. The next Saturday evening, as Thore was going to the saeter, and was stealing on his tiptoes across the yard, a man rushed right at his breast as he came near the barn. "What do you want of me?" said Thore, and knocked his assailant flat on the ground. "That you shall soon find out," said another fellow from behind, giving Thore a blow on the back of the head. This was the brother of the former assailant. "Here comes the third," said old Knud, rushing forward to join the fray. The danger made Thore stronger. He was as limber as a willow and his blows left their marks. He dodged from one side to the other. Where the blows fell he was not, and where his opponents least expected blows from him, they got them. He was, however, at last completely beaten; but old Knud frequently said afterwards that a stouter fellow he had scarcely ever tackled. The fight was continued until blood flowed, but then Huseby cried,-- "Stop!" and added, "If you can manage to get by the Huseby wolf and his cubs next Saturday night, the girl shall be yours." Thore dragged himself homeward as best he could; and as soon as he got home he went to bed. At Huseby there was much talk about the fight; but everybody said,-- "What did he want there?" There was one, however, who did not say so, and that was Aslaug. She had expected Thore that Saturday night, and when she heard what had taken place between him and her father, she sat down and had a good cry, saying to herself,-- "If I cannot have Thore, there will never be another happy day for me in this world." Thore had to keep his bed all day Sunday; and Monday, too, he felt that he must do the same. Tuesday came, and it was such a beautiful day. It had rained during the night. The mountain was wet and green. The fragrance of the leaves was wafted in through the open window; down the mountain sides came the sound of the cow-bells, and some one was heard singing up in the glen. Had it not been for his mother, who was sitting in the room, Thore would have wept from impatient vexation. Wednesday came and still Thore was in bed; but on Thursday he began to wonder whether he could not get well by Saturday; and on Friday he rose. He remembered well the words Aslaug's father had spoken: "If you can manage to get by the Huseby wolf and his cubs next Saturday, the girl shall be yours." He looked over toward the Huseby saeter again and again. "I cannot get more than another thrashing," thought Thore.