"Oh, all of them. The Lensmand wants me to go and be assistant there again, and the doctor wants me to drive for him, and the parson's wife said more than once she misses me to lend a hand, if it wasn't such a long way to go. How was it with that strip of hill, Isak—the bit you sold? Did you get as much for it as they say?"
"Ay, 'tis no lie," answered Isak.
"But what did Geissler want with it, anyway? It lies there still—curious thing! Year after year and nothing done."
It was a curious thing; Isak had often wondered about it himself; he had spoken to the Lensmand about it, and asked for Geissler's address, thinking to write to him … Ay, it was a mystery.
"'Tis more than I can say," said Isak.
Brede made no secret of his interest in this matter of the sale. "They say there's more of the same sort up there," he said, "besides yours. Maybe there's more in it than we know. 'Tis a pity that we should sit here like dumb beasts and know nothing of it all. I've thought of going up one day myself to have a look."
"But do you know anything about metals and such-like?" asked Isak.
"Why, I know a bit. And I've asked one or two others. Anyhow, I'll have to find something; I can't live and keep us all here on this bit of a farm. It's sheer impossible. 'Twas another matter with you that's got all that timber and good soil below. 'Tis naught but moorland here."
"Moorland's good soil enough," said Isak shortly. "I've the same myself."
"But there's no draining it," said Brede…. "It can't be done."