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Updated: June 24, 2025
They scattered in every direction. The boy was in pursuit. Shrieking, laughing, slashing, headlong he ran, nimble as the gophers themselves. It was wide open grassland, and An-ina contented herself with watching from the distance. It was the boy's game. His was the chase. Hers was the simple happiness of witnessing his enjoyment. "Gee!" An-ina started at the sound of the exclamation behind her.
I ran, and ran, and ran, but I never seemed to move; and then I cried, and screamed, louder and louder, and the circling seagulls screamed back mockingly at me. It was an "unken" spot, as they say up North. In the far back days of the building of the world, a long, high ridge of stones had been reared up by the sea, dividing the swampy grassland from the sand.
"There was a ship, and a ship of fame: Away, ho! Rise and shine" in a cracked falsetto. The other one was saying, "You come back, you young cub." But I did not do as they bid. I ran up the beach and as far across the wet grassland as I could without once stopping. When I thought that I was safe, I sat down under some bushes, took off my wet things, and dressed myself in my own clothes.
Swan glanced up at the sun, saw that it was dropping to late afternoon and started in at a long, loose-jointed trot across the mountain meadow called Skyline. A few pines, with scattered clumps of juniper and fir, dotted the long, irregular stretch of grassland which formed the meadow.
They plunged into the knee-deep water, and their feet sank into the bed of soft, reed-grown mud. They crossed the deep nearly waist high, and floundered out on to the far bank. Then came a further groping progress through a thicket of saplings and lesser growth. This passed, they emerged upon an upward slope and firm patchy grassland. It was at the summit of this that the Indian paused.
The fields were coming on nicely now, and you could see the change in the grassland from day to day; it was fine spring weather, and all things doing well that grew, but there was trouble and strife at Ovrebo. Fruen could be seen at times with a face that showed she had been crying; or other times with an air of exaggerated haughtiness, as if she cared nothing for any one.
Within three hundred paces of the boats, upon a fine turfy sward, on rising ground, were three miserable fishing huts. These constituted the village. Upon arrival, no one was to be found: the natives had deserted. A fine tract of broken grassland formed a kind of amphitheatre beneath the range of cliffs. These I scanned with the telescope, but I could trace no signs of man.
The road dips down, the few houses are scattered over grassland, divided by hedges and planted with walnut and chestnut trees, whilst the clear rivulets, which are never silent, follow the sloping banks beside the pathways, and nothing rises on high save the small ancient romanesque church, which is perched on a hillock, covered with graves. Wooded slopes undulate upon all sides.
At first we were still in the grassland; the rolling country was covered with a thick mat of grass dotted with bright flowers, and yurts and men and herds abounded. Happenings along the road were few. The dogs always rushed out from the yurts to greet us.
And it was his alert look that finally decided the doubting man. He swung his horse round, and rode for the river. "So long," he called back. But there was no word of thanks. Neither had the other any response to his farewell. Jim watched him till he disappeared, then he turned again to the rising grassland and watched for the coming of the hunters.
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