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Updated: May 12, 2025
Lars Peter often teased him about this; it became quite a fairy tale to the restless Kristian, who wanted to go over the top of every new hill he saw, until at last he fell down in the hamlet again right down into Ditte's stew-pan. He had often been punished for his roaming but to no good. Povl wanted to pick everything to pieces, to see what was inside, or was busy with hammer and nails.
Breathless, dirty, pale as whitewash, he gasped a threat to be heard from again, and, getting round the corner as quick as he could walk, left Kristian Koppig, standing motionless, the most astonished man in that street. "Kristian Koppig, Kristian Koppig," said Greatheart to himself, slowly dragging up-stairs, "what a mischief you have done.
He was already nearly as clever with his hands as Kristian. Most of what he made went to pieces, but if a handle came off a brush, he would quickly mend it again. "He only pulls things to pieces so as to have something to mend again," said his father. Sister stood looking on with her big eyes. Ditte was always doing something useful, otherwise she was not happy.
No-one dared say anything to him, himself let them try if they dared! The rag and bone man's fingers tingled when he heard all this backbiting why couldn't he and his be allowed to go in peace. He wouldn't mind catching one of the rogues red-handed. He would knock him down in cold blood, whatever the consequences might be. Kristian now went to school too, in the infants' class.
"I'll manage somehow," answered Lars Peter shortly. "And stabling? It's setting in cold now." "You leave that to me!" Lars Peter drove off at a walking pace. He knew perfectly well that he could find neither food nor stabling for the horse without the inn-keeper's help. Two or three days afterwards he sent Kristian with the horse and cart back to the farm.
"If you'll be really good and not tell any one, I'll take you out for a drive," said Ditte, dressing them in their best clothes. These were of many colors, their mother having made them from odd scraps of material, taken from the rag and bone man's cart. "Oh to the market?" shouted Kristian, beginning to jump again.
"You'll have to give up your foolish ways, and running off when you're vexed with any one," said she. "Remember, you're the eldest; it'll be your fault if Povl and sister turn out badly! They've nobody but you to look to now. And stop teasing old Jacob, it's a shame to do it." Kristian promised everything he had the best will in the world. Only he could never remember to keep his good resolutions.
"You lie!" said the cynosure of neighboring eyes. "Ah!" thought Kristian Koppig; "I will go down and ask him" Here his thoughts lost outline; he was only convinced that he had somewhat to say to him, and turned to go down stairs. In going he became a little vexed with himself because he could not help hurrying.
He knows more about wheels and their workings than I do. If only he hadn't got my wandering ways in his blood." "That'll wear off in time!" thought Ditte. "At one time I used to run away too." The following day Kristian was out again, and went singing about the yard. A message had been sent to school that he was ill, so that he had a holiday for a few days he was in high spirits.
Then Kristian rushed in for Ditte, and she brought a rope. Without hesitation she went up to the two struggling men, and gave it to her father. "Shall I help you?" said she. "No need for that, my girl," said Lars Peter, and laughed. "Just hold the rope, while I turn him over." He bound his brother's hands firmly behind his back, then set him on his feet and brushed him.
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