“No, was he really? How is one to believe a word he says, except when he speaks as if he was in his asleep,—straight out from his conscience, I suppose? He began to talk about the bishop next, wanting to know when I thought he would come, and whether he was apt to hold private talk with every sort of person at the houses he stayed at.”
“How did you answer him? You know nothing about the bishop’s visits.”
“So I told him: but, to try him, I said I knew one thing,—that a quantity of fresh fish would be wanted when the bishop comes with his train; and I asked him whether he would go fishing with me, as soon as we should hear that the bishop was drawing near.”
“He would not agree to that, I fancy.”
“He asked how far out I thought of going. Of course I said to Vogel islet,—at least as far as Vogel islet. Do you know, grandfather, I thought he would have knocked me down at the word. He muttered something, I could not hear what, to get off. By that time we were laying the last trough. I asked him to go for some more, and the minute he was out of sight I scampered here. Now, what sort of a mind do you think this fellow has?”
“Not an easy one, it is plain. It is too clear also that he thinks Rolf is drowned.”
“But do you think so, grandfather?”
“Do you think so, grandson?”
“Not a bit of it. Depend upon it, Rolf is all alive, if he is swimming and staring, and throwing his arms about in the water. I think I see him now. And I will see him, if he is to be seen, alive or dead.”
“And pray, how?”