"Well, found it, then?"
Now if only he could have said: "'Tis my horse—our horse…." But to tell the truth, he had only hired it, after all. Hired horse and sledge to cart his logs.
Isak drove down with his loads of firewood, and brought back food, herrings and flour. And one day he came up with a young bull on the sledge; bought it for next to nothing, by reason they were getting short of fodder down in the village. Shaggy and thin, no ways a beauty, but decently built for all that, and wanted no more than proper feed to set it right. And with a cow they had already….
"What'll you be bringing up next?" said Inger.
Isak brought up a host of things. Brought up planks and a saw he had got in exchange for timber; a grindstone, a wafer iron, tools—all in exchange for his logs. Inger was bursting with riches, and said each time: "What, more things! When we've cattle and all a body could think of!"
They had enough to meet their needs for no little time to come, and were well-to-do folk. What was Isak to start on again next spring? He had thought it all out, tramping down beside his loads of wood that winter; he would clear more ground over the hillside and level it off, cut up more logs to dry through the summer, and take down double loads when the snow came fit for sledging. It worked out beautifully.
But there was another matter Isak had thought of times out of number: that Goldenhorns, where had she come from, whose had she been? There was never a wife on earth like Inger. Ho! a wild thing she was, that let him do as he pleased with her, and was glad of it. But—suppose one day they were to come for the cow, and take it away—and worse, maybe, to come after? What was it Inger herself had said about the horse: "You haven't stolen it, I suppose, or found it?" That was her first thought, yes. That was what she had said; who could say if she were to be trusted—what should he do? He had thought of it all many a time. And here he had brought up a mate himself for the cow—for a stolen cow, maybe!
And there was the horse he would have to return again. A pity—for 'twas a little friendly beast, and grown fond of them already.
"Never mind," said Inger comfortingly. "Why, you've done wonders already."
"Ay, but just now with the spring coming on—and I've need of a horse…."