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Stunned and fainting, he sank with his burden, but the succeeding wave threw him and the young girl up again. The fishermen had now reached them, and they were taken into the boat. Blood was streaming over Jörgen's face; he looked as if he were dead, but he still held the girl in so tight a grasp that it was with the utmost difficulty she could be wrenched from his encircling arm.
Then Baker Jorgen's Soren came by, and gave the child a roll. He had a whole basket full of bread. "Are there any more children who are hungry?" he asked aloud. He looked easily in people's faces, and was quite another creature to what he was at home; here no one laughed at him, and no one whispered that he was the brother of his own son.
Then Baker Jorgen's Soren came by, and gave the child a roll. He had a whole basket full of bread. "Are there any more children who are hungry?" he asked aloud. He looked easily in people's faces, and was quite another creature to what he was at home; here no one laughed at him, and no one whispered that he was the brother of his own son.
There was plenty of life in him; he could swim, tread the water, and turn and roll about in it. He was much inclined to offer himself for the mackerel shoals: they take the best swimmer, draw him under the water, eat him up, and so there is an end of him; but this was not Jörgen's fate. Among the neighbours in the sand-hills was a boy named Morten.
Then what numbers of our neighbours came to bid us good-by! It was a very long journey we had before us. Shortly before mid-day we drove out of Odense in my father's Holstern wagon a roomy carriage. Our acquaintances bowed to us from the windows of almost every house until we were outside of St. Jörgen's Port. The weather was delightful, the birds were singing, all was pleasure.
Next day the tunnel was driven farther as far as Baker Jorgen's steps, and their connection with the outer world was secure. At Jorgen's great things had happened in the course of the last four- and-twenty hours. Marie had been so excited by the idea that the end of the world was perhaps at hand that she had hastily brought the little Jorgen into it.
His eyes were blazing like lamps; he was deep in the world's fairy-tale. During the evening they dug and bored halfway to Baker Jorgen's. They must at least secure their connection with the baker. Jeppe went in with a light. "Look out that it doesn't fall on you," he said warningly. The light glistened in the snow, and the boys proceeded to amuse themselves.
In the ocean there are many heavy seas the human heart has still heavier ones. There passed many thoughts, strong and weak mingled together, through Jörgen's head and heart, and he asked Elsé, "If Morten had a house as well as I, which of us two would you rather take?" "But Morten has no house, and has no chance of getting one." "But we think it is very likely he will have one."
Jörgen's foster-father was obliged to keep his bed; he became worse, and died within a week; and Jörgen inherited the house behind the sand-hills a humble habitation to be sure, but it was always something. Morten had not so much. "You will not take service any more, Jörgen, I suppose, but will remain among us now," said one of the old fishermen. But Jörgen had no such intention.
To the north of Ringkjöbing Fiord, at a small country inn, on the evening of the day previous to Jörgen's leaving home, and the committal of the murder, Niels Tyv and Morten had met each other. They drank a little together, not enough certainly to get into any man's head, but enough to set Morten talking too freely.
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