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"I dare say he is a man who is haunted by gloomy forebodings and therefore can not work steadily. What kind of a father would that be for the girl?" While Ola was talking the fisherman started up the strand. "Where are you going?" queried the Lapp. "I'm going to have a look at your foster-daughter, Ola." "Good!" said the Lapp. "Come along and meet her.

It appeared that the Red Partisans, moving from the mountains Tannu Ola, occupied with their outposts all the border of Mongolia to stop and seize the peasants and Soyots driving out their cattle. To pass the Tannu Ola now would be impossible.

On the afternoon of the second wedding day for peasant weddings in Norway are often celebrated for three days a notorious bully named Ola Klemmerud took it into his head to have some sport with the big good-natured simpleton. So, by way of pleasantry, he pulled the tuft of hair which hung down upon Bonnyboy's forehead. "Don't do that," said Bonnyboy.

Per Ola obeyed him, and he and the tiny creature, together, steered the scow. With a couple of strokes they were on a little reed-encircled island, and now Per Ola was told that he must step on land. And just the very moment that Per Ola set foot on land, the scow was filled with water, and sank to the bottom. When Per Ola saw this he was sure that father and mother would be very angry with him.

"So there we are you're bored to death and I've no one to growl at when I come back from the City all Ola Hunting's fault wring the girl's neck. Meanwhile here I sit and every evening I'll write whatever comes into my head and never look back on it again but stick it into an envelope and send it to you. You know me too well by now to be disappointed at anything.

"Ola! viejo!" he repeated, falteringly, swaying where he stood. His hand, extended to steady himself, fell upon the table. Moving a step forward, he shifted it, and felt a box of matches under his fingers. He fancied he had heard a quiet sigh. He listened for a moment, holding his breath; then, with trembling hands, tried to strike a light.

Ola, there! Pedro! Pedro!" he yelled, with a force of lung testifying to the regenerative virtues of water. A weak "Senor?" came from under the wharf. "What did I tell you?" said Ricardo triumphantly. "Nothing can hurt him. He's all right. But, I say, the boat's getting swamped. Can't you turn this water off before you sink her under us? She's half full already."

"Perhaps she's the daughter of some new settler and is accustomed to the life here?" "No, she's from the far south," replied Ola, as if this was of small importance. The fisherman grew more interested. "Then I don't believe that you can take her," he said. "It's doubtful if she could stand living in a tent in winter, since she was not brought up that way."

"De songs we used to sing in old days when I was a kid after de War wasn't no purtier dan what we used to sing wid our own minstrel show when we was at our best twenty-five and thirty years ago; songs like 'Jungletown, 'Red Wing, and 'Mammy's Li'l Alabama Coon. Our circuit used to be around Holla Bend, Dover, Danville, Ola, Charleston, Nigger Ridge, out from Pottsville, and we usually starred off at the old opery house in Russellville, of course.

"When we heard her story we were all deeply touched and said among ourselves that so good a sister would also make a good daughter, and we hoped that she would come to us." The fisherman sat quietly thinking a moment. It was plain that he continued the conversation only to please his friend, the Lapp. "I presume the girl is one of your race?" "No," said Ola, "she doesn't belong to the Saméfolk."