"There's a wagon rattling along in the woods," said Katrina. "What on earth can that mean?"
As the rumbling noise grew more and more distinct, their astonishment increased.
"And it's Sunday, too!" observed Katrina. "Now if this were a weekday you could understand it; but who can it be that's out driving in the woods on a Sunday night?"
She listened again. Then she heard the scraping of wheels against stones and the clatter of hoofs along the steep forest road.
"Do you hear?" asked Jan. "Do you hear?"
"Yes, I hear," said Katrina. "But no matter who comes I've got to get the bed ready for you at once. It's that I have to think of."
"And I'm going down to Falla," said the seine-maker. "That's more important than anything else. Good-bye for the present."
The old man hurried away while Katrina went in to prepare the bed; she was hardly inside the door when the rattling noise, which she and the seine-maker believed was caused by a common wagon, sounded as if it were almost upon them. To Jan it was the rumble of heavy war chariots, at whose approach the whole earth trembled. He called in a loud voice to Katrina, who came out immediately.
"Dear heart, don't be so scared!" she said reassuringly. "I can see the horse now. It's the old bay from Falla. Sit up and you'll see it, too." Slipping her hand under Jan's neck she raised him to a sitting posture. Through the elder bushes at the edge of the road a horse could be seen running wildly in the direction of Ruffluck. "Don't you see it's only Lars Gunnarson driving home? He must have drunk himself full at the tavern, for he doesn't seem to know which way he's going."
When Katrina said that a horse and wagon dashed by their gate. Both she and Jan noticed that the wagon was empty and the horse driverless.