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Updated: May 8, 2025
And then, why, one of the cows might be an ox to ride, a means of transport for my shivering age! But it came to naught it came to naught! My wisdom has not come with age; here am I going up to Trovatn and the waste lands to live in a wooden hut! What pleasure can there be in that? Ai, Lars Falkenberg, and ai, every one else, have no fear; I have a man to come up with things I need.
"A long way, up in the hills, to Trovatn, to a forest." He did not believe me in the least, but he answered quickly and evasively: "Ay, I dare say, yes." After we had finished the pipes, Nils sent Grindhusen and myself up cutting wood till the Captain returned. We cut up and stacked the top-ends the woodmen had left; neat and steady work it was. "We'll be turned off, both of us," said Grindhusen.
And if I have come here now, it is because the place lies on my way to Trovatn, up in the hills. All is as it was before here now, save for thin ice on the river above and below the rapids, and snow on the ice again. I take care to buy clothes and equipment here in the town, and, having got a good new pair of shoes, I take my old ones to the cobbler to be half-soled.
At noon, looking back from a hill, I can see Trovatn far behind; white and flat it lies, a stretch of chalk, a desert of snow. After a meal I go on again, higher and higher, nearing the fjeld now, but slowly and thoughtfully, with hands in my pockets. There is no hurry; I have only to find a shelter for the night.
After an hour's walking, we sighted the fields and buildings of a hill farm up among the trees. And suddenly I recollect the sheep Grindhusen had found. "Was it up this way you found that sheep?" I ask. Grindhusen looks at me. "Here? No, that was ever so far away right over toward Trovatn." "But Trovatn's only in the next parish, isn't it?" "Yes, that's what I say.
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