It was Jörgen Thiis! Mary promptly lowered her head again; then the joy of revenge took possession of her, and she mounted quickly, determinedly. Jörgen saw her, jumped up, looking agitated and ashamed, pulled off his cap, put it on again, seemed not to know where to look or to turn. Mary approached slowly, thoroughly enjoying his embarrassment. While still some distance off she called: "So this is your idea of sport! Are you shooting our hens to-day?" Then, as she came nearer: "You have no dog with you? No, of course not; you can shoot hens without a dog. Or perhaps you have none?"
"Yes; but I am not shooting to-day. I have finished."
This quiet, inoffensive answer, which he gave without daring to look at her, produced a revulsion of feeling in Mary. No, she would not be unkind to him! She had heard enough of his uncle's tyranny.
The crows were clamouring louder than ever.
"Listen! They are condemning some poor wretch! I wonder you don't go and help him."
"Indeed I ought to!" cried Jörgen, happy to escape. He picked up his gun and ran, she following, up a short ascent and then along a path on the level. Upon and around two old trees the grey administrators of justice were raving; there were hundreds of them. But the moment they saw a man with a gun, they scattered, cawing, in every direction. Their task was accomplished.
Between two large trees lay an unusually large crow, featherless and bleeding, in its death struggle. Jörgen was going to take hold of it.
"No, don't touch it!" called Mary, and turned away.
She went straight down again as she had come. Hearing Jörgen follow, she stopped.
"You will come with me, won't you, and dine?"