And then?
Well, it may be that the Promethean spirit is preparing a settling day for the universe somewhere out in infinity. But what concern is that of mine? What about my own immortal soul?
Silence—push on, push on. There may be a snowstorm any minute. Come up—get along, you scarecrow.
The dun struggles on to the end of a twelve-mile stage, and then the valley ends and the full blast from the plateau meets them. Here lies the posting station, the last farm in the valley. He swings into the yard and is soon sitting in the room over a cup of coffee and a pipe.
Merle? How are things with Merle now?
Ah! here comes his own horse, the big black stallion from Gudbrandsdal. This beast’s trot is a different thing from the poor dun’s—the sleigh flies up to the door. And in a moment Peer is sitting in it again in his furs.
Ah! what a relief to have a fresh horse, and one that makes light of the load behind him. Away he goes at a brisk trot, with lifted head and bells jingling, over the frozen lakes. Here and there on the hillslopes a grey hut or two show out—saeters, which have lain there unchanged for perhaps a couple of thousand years. But a new time is coming. The saeter-horns will be heard no longer, and the song of the turbines will rise in their place.
An icy wind is blowing; the horse throws up its head and snorts. Big snowflakes come driving on the wind, and soon a regular snowstorm is raging, lashing the traveller’s face till he gasps. First the horse’s mane and tail grow white with snow, then its whole body. The drifts grow bigger, the black has to make great bounds to clear them. Bravo, old boy! we must get there before dark. There are brushwood brooms set out across the ice to mark the way, but who could keep them in sight in a driving smother like this? Peer’s own face is plastered white now, and he feels stunned and dazed under the lash of the snow.
He has worked under the burning suns of Egypt—and now here. But the steel will on. The wave rolls on its way over all the world.
If this snow should turn to rain now, it will mean a flood. And then the men will have to turn out to-night and work to save the dams.