Their master frowned and seemed about to answer sharply, but Kristin laid her hand upon his sleeve: “Let them go, dear sir!” She shuddered a little. “Loth would we be, in truth, both my sister and I, this matter should be talked of.” The stranger looked down at her—he bit his lip and nodded, as though he understood her. Then he gave each of the captives a blow on the nape with the flat of his sword which sent them sprawling forwards. “Run for it then,” he said, kicking them, and both scrambled up and took to their heels as fast as they could. Then he turned again to the maidens and asked if they would please to ride. Ingebjörg let herself be lifted into Erlend’s saddle, but it was soon plain that she could not keep her seat,—she slid down again at once. He looked at Kristin doubtfully, and she said that she was used to ride on a man’s saddle. He took hold of her below the knees and lifted her up. A sweet and happy thrill ran through her to feel how carefully he held her from him, as though afraid to come near her—at home no one ever minded how tight they held her when they helped her on to a horse. She felt marvellously honoured and uplifted— The knight—as Ingebjörg called him, though he had but silver spurs—now offered that maiden his hand, and his men sprang to their saddles. Ingebjörg would have it that they should ride round the town to the northcard, below the Ryenberg and Martestokke, and not through the streets. First she gave as a reason that Sir Erlend and his men were fully armed—were they not? The knight answered gravely that the ban on carrying arms was not over strict at any time—for travellers at least—and now everyone in the town was out on a wild beast hunt—Then she said she was fearful of the pards. Kristin saw full well that Ingebjörg was fain to go by the longest and loneliest road, that she might have the more talk with Erlend. “This is the second time this evening that we hinder you, good sir,” said she, and Erlend answered soberly: “’Tis no matter, I am bound no further than to Gerdarud to-night—and ’tis light the whole night long.” It liked Kristin well that he jested not, nor bantered them, but talked to her as though she were his like or even more than his like. She thought of Simon; she had not met other young men of courtly breeding. But ’twas true, this man seemed older than Simon— They rode down into the valley below the Ryenberg hills and up along the back. The path was narrow, and the young bushes swung wet, heavily-scented branches against her—it was a little darker down here, and the air was cool and the leaves all dewy along the beck-path.