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"No, indeed," thought Blessom, and started over the hills for home.
The boy made no reply, but he looked full in his father's face. His father then told him about a man from Vaage, whose name was Blessom. This man was in Copenhagen for the purpose of getting the king's verdict in a law-suit he was engaged in, and he was detained so long that Christmas eve overtook him there.
But when they had gone still farther, Blessom thought he recognized the parish they were driving through. "Is not this Vaage?" cried he. "Yes, now we are there," replied the stranger, and it seemed to Blessom that they had gone pretty fast. "Thank you for the good ride," said he. "Thanks to yourself," replied the man, and added, as he whipped up his horse, "Now you had better not look after me."
When he played a wrong note on the E string, it was the cat; but when he took a wrong note on his father's string, it was the ox. The bow was Blessom, who drove from Copenhagen to Vaage in one night. And every tune he played represented something. The one containing the long solemn tones was his mother in her black dress.
Blessom did as he was told, and it was well he did, for their journey was evidently not by land. "It seems to me that you are driving on the water," cried Blessom. "I am," said the man, and the spray whirled about them. But after a while it seemed to Blessom their course no longer lay on the water. "It seems to me we are moving through the air," said he. "Yes, so we are," replied the stranger.
Blessom was greatly annoyed at this, and, as he was sauntering about the streets fancying himself at home, he saw a very large man, in a white, short coat, walking in front of him. "How fast you are walking!" said Blessom. "I have a long distance to go in order to get home this evening," replied the man. "Where are you going?" "To Vaage," answered the man, and walked on.
"Why, that is very nice," said Blessom, "for that is where I am going, too." "Well, then, you may ride with me, if you will stand on the runners of my sledge," answered the man, and turned into a side street where his horse was standing. He mounted his seat and looked over his shoulder at Blessom, who was just getting on the runners. "You had better hold fast," said the stranger.
Blessom felt somewhat strange in regard to his travelling companion; and thought he would look in another direction; but as he had turned his head so it remained, and never more could Blossom get it straight again. The boy had never heard anything to equal this in all his life. He dared not ask his father for more, but early the next morning he asked his mother if she knew any stories.
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