She knew that in the wild woods wolves and bears lorded it, and that under every stone there dwelt trolls and goblins and elfinfolk, and she was afraid, for no one knew the number of them, but there must be many times more of them than of Christian men and women. Then she called aloud on her father, but he could not hear, for the blowing of the wind—he and his men were busy rolling heavy stones up the bare mountain top to pile round the timbers of the beacon.
But Isrid came to the children and showed Kristin where the fell west of Vaage lay. And Arne pointed out the Grayfell, where folk from the parish took reindeer in pits, and where the King’s falcon-catchers lay in stone huts. That was a trade Arne thought to take to some day—but if he did he would learn as well to train the birds for the chase—and he held his arms aloft as though to cast a hawk.
Isrid shook her head.
“’Tis a hard and evil life, that, Arne Gyrdsön—’twould be a heavy sorrow for your mother, boy, should you ever come to be a falcon-catcher. None may earn his bread in those wild hills except he join in fellowship with the worst of men—aye, and with them that are worse still.”
Lavrans had come toward them and had heard this last word: “Aye,” says he, “there’s more than one hide of land in there that pays neither tax nor tithe—”
“Yes, many a thing must you have seen,” said Isrid coaxingly, “you who fare so far afield—”
“Aye, aye,” said Lavrans slowly. “Maybe—but methinks ’tis well not to speak of such things overmuch. One should not, I say, grudge folks who have lost their peace in the parish, whatever peace they can find among the fells. Yet have I seen yellow fields and brave meadows where few folk know that such things be, and herds have I seen of cattle and small stock, but of these I know not whether they belonged to mankind or to other folk—”
“Oh! aye,” says Isrid. “Bears and wolves get the blame for the beasts that are missed from the sæters here, but there are worse thieves among the fells than they.”
“Do you call them worse?” asked Lavrans thoughtfully, stroking his daughter’s cap. “In the hills to the south under the Boar Fells I once saw three little lads, and the greatest was even as Kristin here—yellow hair they had, and coats of skin. They gnashed their teeth at me like wolf-cubs before they ran to hide. ’Twere little wonder if the poor man who owned them were fain to lift a cow or two—”
“Oh! both wolves and bears have young,” says Isrid testily. “And you spare not them, Lavrans, neither them nor their young. Yet they have no lore of law nor of Christendom, as have these evil-doers you wish so well to—”