The men were standing below at the entrance to the driveway, waiting for their master to come back. "There, John," the latter called, as he sprang from his horse, "take him and ride him down to the fen, to the others; he carries you as if you were in a cradle!" The horse tossed his head and whinnied loudly out into the sunny open country, while the man unbuckled the saddle and the boy carried it off to the harness-room; then he laid his head on his master's shoulder and suffered himself to be caressed. But when the man tried to swing himself up onto his back he sprang suddenly and sharply aside and then stood quiet again, his beautiful eyes fixed on his master. "Oh ho, Iven!" cried the latter, "did he hurt you?" and tried to help his man onto his feet. Iven rubbed his hip hard. "No, master, it's not so bad; but the devil can ride the white horse!" "And so will I!" added Hauke, laughing. "Take the rein and lead him to the fen, then." And when the man, somewhat ashamed of himself, obeyed, the white horse quietly allowed himself to be led. A few evenings later the man and the stable-boy were standing together at the stable door; behind the dike the evening glow had paled, and on the inner side the koog lay in deep dusk; occasionally the lowing of some startled cow came from the distance or the shriek of a lark as a weasel or water rat put an end to its life. The man was leaning against the door-post smoking a short pipe, the smoke of which he could no longer see; he and the boy had not yet spoken to each other. The latter had something on his mind, but he did not know how to approach the silent man with it. "Look, Iven," he said at last. "You know the horse's skeleton on Iverssand?" "What about it?" asked the man. "It isn't there any more; not in the daytime nor by moonlight; I've been out on the dike at least twenty times." "I suppose the old bones have fallen apart!" said Iven, and went on smoking calmly. "But I was out there by moonlight too; there's nothing walking about over on Jeverssand!" "Well," said the man, "if the bones have fallen to pieces I suppose it can't get up any more." "Don't joke, Iven! I know now; I can tell you where it is." The man turned towards him with a start. "Well, where is it then?" "Where?" the boy repeated impressively. "It's standing in our stable. It's been standing there ever since it has not been on the islet. It's not for nothing that the master always feeds it himself. I know what I'm talking about, Iven." The man puffed away violently for a while. "You're a bit off, Karsten," he said at last; "our white horse? If ever a horse was alive it's he. How can a bright lad like you believe in such an old woman's tale!"