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Isak is looking ahead, to the time when he will need to build a little house here, a little home for himself and Inger, and as well to get to work a bit on the site, and clear it, while Sivert is down at Storborg. Otherwise the boy would be asking questions, and that was not to Isak's mind.
They had hired men to help the first time such a thing had ever been done at Sellanraa two stoneworkers from the Swedish side, to get out stone for a new cowshed. This had been Isak's great idea for years past, to build a proper cowshed.
He noticed everything. One of the strangers came up. "Now then, let's get this matter settled and have done with it," he said. They all went into the new building again, and Isak's four thousand Kroner were counted out. Geissler was given a paper, which he thrust into his pocket as if it were of no value at all.
Geissler sat down, slapped his knee with a powerful hand, and there he was master of Isak's fate. "You haven't sold that copper tract yet?" he asked. "No." "Good. I'll buy it myself. Yes, I've seen Inger and some other people too. She'll be out before long, if I'm not greatly mistaken the case has been submitted to the King." "The King?" "The King, yes.
Inger oh, she knew, no doubt, more than she had been willing to say. It might be, too, that she herself had sent for Oline. When Isak came from Sweden, Inger was gone and Oline was there with the two children. It was dark news for a homecoming. Isak's voice was louder than usual as he asked: "Is she gone?" "Ay," said Oline. "What day was it?" "The day after you left."
Certainly, there was some heavy timber, and that within the limits of Isak's proposed holding, but not enough to reckon with for sale; no more than would be required to keep up the place. Even if there had been timber in plenty, who was to carry it all the many miles to where it could be sold?
And from there the work was to make its way gradually northward to the original mine, Isak's mine, to be a blessing to folk in the wilds and in the village. At best, it would take years, any number of years, a generation. The news came like a dynamite charge of the heaviest sort, with shock and stopping of ears. The village folk were overcome with grief.
"Rain? not a bit of it. Don't know what you're talking about." "Ah, it's no good pretending," said Inger. Isak was pretending ay, that was it. Rain it was, sure enough, and a good heavy shower but as soon as it had rained enough to spoil Isak's lichen, it stopped. The sky was blue. "What did I say," said Isak, stiff-necked and hard.
Axel Ström was nearest to Isak's land now, his next-door neighbour. A clever fellow, unmarried, he came from Helgeland. He had borrowed Isak's new harrow to break up his soil, and not till the second year had he set up a hayshed and a turf hut for himself and a couple of animals. He had called his place Maaneland, because it looked nice in the moonlight.
She took out a bundle of little collars Leopoldine's, they were. And gave Isak a black neckerchief for himself, shiny as silk. "Is that for me?" said he. "Yes, it's for you." He took it carefully in his hands, and stroked it. "Do you think it's nice?" "Nice why I could go round the world in such." But Isak's fingers were rough; they stuck in the curious silky stuff.
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