“Well, He’s every reason to be. He’s Lord of all creation, I know, but I shouldn’t think there’s anything much in being just a God of beasts and mountains. After all, it’s us human beings that make Him what He is. So why shouldn’t He be with us?” And, having delivered himself of this striking speech, Rolandsen looked extremely pleased with himself. Fruen wondered at him greatly as she walked away. Ho-ho! ’Twas not for nothing that the knob of a head he bore on his shoulders had devised a great invention. But now the cognac had come. Rolandsen had carried the keg up from the wharf himself; he went no back-ways round with his burden, but carried it openly under his powerful arm in broad daylight. So unafraid was he at heart. And then came a time when Rolandsen found comfort for all distress. And there were nights when he turned out and made himself regent and master of all roads and ways; he cleared them bare, and made them impassable for stranger men from the boats, coming ashore on their lawful errands, in search of petticoats. One Sunday a boat’s crew appeared at church, all reasonably drunk. After the service they sauntered up and down the road, instead of going on board; they had a supply of _Brændevin_ with them, and drank themselves ever more boisterous, to the annoyance of those passing by. The priest himself had come up to reprove them, but without effect; later, the _Lensmand_ himself came up, and he wore a gold-laced cap. Some of them went on board after that, but three of them--Big Ulrik was one--refused to budge. They had come ashore, they said, and were going to let folk know it; as for the girls, they were their girls for now. Ulrik was with them, and Ulrik was a man well known from Lofoten to Finmarken. Come on then! A number of people from the village had gathered about, farther off along the road, or in among the trees, as their courage permitted. They glanced with some concern at Big Ulrik swaggering about. “I must ask you men to go on board again,” said the _Lensmand_. “If you don’t, I’ll have to talk to you after another fashion.” “Go along home, you and your cap,” said Ulrik. The _Lensmand_ was thinking already of getting help, and tying up the madman out of harm’s way. “And you’d better be careful how you defy me when I’m in uniform,” says the _Lensmand_. Ulrik and his fellows laughed at this till they had to hold their ribs. A fisher-lad ventured boldly past; one of them struck him a _Skalle_,[5] and drew blood. “Now for the next,” cried Ulrik. [5] A blow delivered with the head, hitting downward or sideways at an opponent’s face. “A rope,” cried the _Lensmand_, at sight of the blood. “Bring a rope, some of you, and help me take him.” “How many are there of you?” asked Ulrik the invincible. And the three doughty ones laughed and gasped again.