"What do you think Ashiepattle did? When the troll was not looking, he seized the bag in which he had kept the cheese, and, fastening it in front of him, he slipped most of the porridge he received into that, instead of his mouth. At last it was quite full. Ashiepattle then took his knife and cut a hole in it, while the troll watched him in wonder. After awhile the giant exclaimed: "'I really can't eat any more. I shall have to admit you have beaten me.' "'Didn't you see what I did?' cried his visitor. 'If you cut a hole in your stomach as you saw me do, you can eat as long as you wish.' "'But didn't it hurt terribly?' asked the troll. "'No, indeed. Try it and see for yourself,' replied Ashiepattle, laughing inside all the while. "The troll did as he was told, and you may guess what happened. He fell on the floor in agony and died in a few moments. "And what did our brave little Ashiepattle do? He searched for the stores of gold and silver belonging to the troll, and soon succeeded in finding them. He started for home in great glee, for now he could pay his father's debt and free the old man from trouble." "Listen," cried Henrik, as his father finished the story. "There is a noise outside as though something were the matter. Do you suppose foxes have dared to come near and are disturbing the hens?" "We will soon find out," cried the farmer, jumping to his feet. "Hand me my gun from the wall, good wife, and Henrik, take yours and follow me." They crept out of the house with as little noise as possible, while Ole and Mari flattened their noses against the window-panes. But it was pitch-dark outside, and they could see nothing. Bang, bang! went a gun. "They found him, they found him," shouted Ole, jumping up and down. "I do hope he was hit." A few minutes after, steps were heard coming back to the house. Ole rushed to the door and opened it. There stood his father holding a large red fox by the nape of the neck. The eyes of the animal were glassy, for he was quite dead. "He was creeping away over the snow when we saw him," said the farmer, "and he had one of my finest hens in his mouth. I don't believe this was his first visit, either, for you know, wife, we have lost several fowls lately. Henrik, you and Ole may skin this sly fellow and make a mat for your mother. But it is getting late, and I must start early in the morning, so to bed, one and all." CHAPTER VIII. THE LUMBER CAMP THE whole family were awake bright and early the next morning. Mari and Greta helped their mother in packing the birch-bark knapsack with the provisions their father needed to carry with him to the forest. There must be a good supply of dried meat and fish, sugar, butter, and flour. Last, but not least, the coffee was packed safely inside. What would the good man and his helpers do without this refreshing drink? When they returned to the hut after a day's chilling work, a bowl of hot coffee would fill them with new life.