"When shall we meet again?" she whispered. "To-morrow, to-morrow." "Yes, to-morrow." "Good bye;" she ran. "Marit!" and she stopped. "How strange that we should meet first up on the ridge." "Yes, it is;" she ran again. He looked long after her,--the dog ran before and barked, she after, trying to silence him. Ovind took his cap, and tossed it again and again; "Now, I believe, I really begin to be happy," said he, and sang as he went home. CHAP. X. TURN THE RIVER WHERE IT CAN FLOW. When they were all making hay, one afternoon, in the summer, a little bare-headed, bare-footed boy came running down the ridge over the field to Ovind, and gave him a note. "You are running fast," said Ovind. "Yes, I am paid for it," answered the boy. Ovind was a little perplexed when he opened the note, it was so carefully wrapped up and sealed; it ran as follows:-- "He is on his way now, but he goes slowly. Go into the wood and hide. You Know Who From." "No, that I won't," thought Ovind, and looked defiantly up over the hill. It was not long before an old man came into sight on the top of the hill; resting, then going a little further, and resting again. The father and the mother both left off working to look at him. Thore smiled; but the mother, on the contrary, changed colour. "Do you know him?" "Yes, there's no mistaking him." The old man came slowly nearer and nearer. He was somewhat tall and burly, and being rather lame, he could only with difficulty walk by the help of his staff. When he came close to, he stopped, took off his cap, and wiped his forehead. His head was quite bald at the back; he had a round tight-drawn face, small piercing eyes, bushy eyebrows, and a full row of teeth. He spoke in a sharp shrill voice, hopping, as it were, over gravel and stone, and every now and then resting with great delight upon an inviting R. In his younger days he had been known as a cheerful, but hot tempered, man; now, after many adversities, he had grown peevish and distrustful. Thore and his son had many journeys backwards and forwards before old Ole got up to them, but at last, as they came out from the hay loft, they saw him standing in front of the kitchen door, as though doubtful what to do; he held his cap and staff in one hand, and with the other wiped his bald head with a handkerchief. Ovind stood behind his father as he went up and accosted him. "You must be tired, will you not come in?" Ole turned and looked sharply at him, at the same time adjusting his cap, before he replied: "No, I can rest where I stand, I shall not be long." Since he had lost his hair his cap was far too big for him, it came down over his eyes; so that to be able to see, he had to hold his head right back. "Is that your son standing there behind you?" he began in a harsh voice. "They say so." "His name is Ovind, is it not?" "Yes, they call him Ovind."