[XIV.]
THE danneman’s sleigh was not so light as the one in which the major had brought Christian to the chalet, but fortunately it was more solid, for the young Dalecarlian did not condescend to avoid either rock or hole. Instead of allowing the horse—the more intelligent of the two—to go as his instinct should direct, he made the drive, dangerous under any circumstances, blunderingly foolhardy, by whipping and opposing him at every point. Christian, who was lying in the midst of the four bears, two of them dead and two living, said to himself that he would fall softly, unless they should be flung to one side and he to the other. At last, irritated at seeing the danneman’s horse maltreated without any advantage to any one, he took the reins and the whip abruptly, saying to the young lad, in a tone indicating his displeasure, that he preferred driving himself.
Olof was good-natured and gentle; he only put on his terrible airs out of vanity, so as to appear like a man. He began singing a Swedish song, both to amuse himself and to show his companion that he pronounced the mother-tongue more purely than the other members of the family. Remarking this, Christian determined to have a talk with him.
“Why,” said he, “did you not come with us when we went to the hunt? Have you never yet seen a bear erect?”
“Aunt would never let me,” replied the young lad, with a sigh.
“Aunt Karine?”
“There is no other at our house.”
“And you have to do everything she says?”
“Everything.”
“Has she predicted that you would have bad luck?”