"Hm, hm," he mumbled, somewhat brought to his senses as he looked back upon the object of his missed revenge.
"So, so—off, I say, you black knacker—if you once peep back again in that way, I will kill you! Ha, ha, ha! If you run, you will still find a hill, my good friend."
He had had a tremendous headache all day; but it was not that which annoyed him—that he knew.
And when he came home, where they were expecting father to-day in great suspense after his long absence, his looks were dark.
"There, Ola! Curry the horse—dry him with a wisp of straw first—take good care of him—put a blanket on his back; do you hear? I only drove the fellow a little up the hill."
Great-Ola looked at the captain and nodded his head confidently, as he led the horse and carriage away from the steps; there was surely something the matter; the captain had got cheated again with this new nag.
"Good day, Ma—good day!" and he kissed her hastily. "Yes, I am quite well."
He took off his cloak and shako. "Oh, can't you let Marit take the trunk and the travelling-bag so that they needn't stand there on the steps any longer?—Oh, yes; it has been tiresome enough," as he evaded rather coldly Thinka's attentions. "Put the sabre on the peg, and carry the bag up to my chamber."
He himself went first up to the office to look at the mail, and then down to the stable to see how Great-Ola had treated Svarten.
There was something the matter with father; that was clear!