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Updated: May 6, 2025
The Heif-mother gave a wild shriek, and fell back upon Lizbet, who was peeling potatoes in the doorway. "When where how who what?" she cried frantically. "Tell me at once, or I shall faint away." "Be calm, ma'am," said the Stein-bok soothingly. "I heard it from the Chamois, who have a habit of bounding about everywhere, as you know.
Throwing himself down on a stone bench, he tossed his Tyrolese hat on to the ground, and fanned himself with his handkerchief. "Good morning, Herr Stein-bok. You seem exhausted," said the Goat-mother. "I am, ma'am, and well I may be. Five miles with twenty pounds on my back is no joke, I can assure you." "Shall I bring you a glass of lager-beer?" enquired the Heif-mother.
"Oh yes he will, ma'am," replied the Stein-bok, "they're not going to kill him, their idea is to take him down to the village." "That they shall never do!" cried the Heif-mother, starting up, "not if I go myself to rescue him! Go, Lizbet, and call your brothers. We must consult together immediately." Lizbet darted off, and the Stein-bok continued.
They could never quite make out what they were doing, but the Heif-mother finally decided that their journeys must be some religious or national observance. "People would never struggle about on the ice like that tied to each other with ropes, too! unless it was a painful duty," she said. "I consider it very praiseworthy."
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