Jörgen moved uneasily.
"If you move off the spot, boy, I'll break your arms and legs in pieces!" foamed the captain, now red as copper. "Sit—sit still and read!"
He intended also to sit still himself. That scoundrel of a trader—he should fasten his horse himself at the doorsteps, and help himself as he could.
"I hear them talking—Great-Ola."
"Hold your tongue!" said the captain in a murderous deep bass, and with a pair of eyes fixed on his son as if he could eat him.
"Yes; but, father, it is really—"
A pull on his forelock and a box on the ears sent him across the floor.
"The doctor," roared Jörgen.
The truth of his martyrdom was established in the same moment, because the short, square form of the military doctor appeared in the door.