Gradually it grew light. The man on the side of the sledge became once more an ordinary vagabond, with a sullen, unkindly face. The landscape was a stony, barren, poor, but altogether earthly tract, and Sigrun herself awoke to life with its insistent demands for courage and strength of mind....
The horse had had no rest all night, and they were going very slowly. They had to halt for some hours at a peasant's hut to give the animal food and rest. At last, however, they came in sight of a village where there was an inn.
As they were thus approaching the end of their journey, the knife-grinder turned to Sigrun.
"A man like me," he said, "going about the country all ways, sees many strange things in his time. But I will say, this business to-night's the strangest I've ever had a hand in."
"You think so?" Sigrun turned to the little dark man with a friendly smile.
"I'll take my oath I've never seen nor heard the like. And I can't for the life of me see what it was made me soft enough to help with it at all. I can't make it out."
"Neither can I," said Sigrun. "But be sure you will never regret it."
"Why, as to that, you never know," said the man. "But, anyhow, I don't like to let you go on now without knowing how you're going to manage, and where you're making for."
"I am going to America," said Sigrun.
"It costs a heap of money to get to America," said the man.