"Awful, sir."
"Worse than this?"
"Ten times worse--over the Hengel mountain and past the boiling pits, sir."
"Thank God!" said Christian Christiansson, and he lay down again with content, telling himself that the same storm that was keeping him back must keep back the Sheriff, and therefore there could be no auction to-morrow morning.
The storm still hissed and howled and wept in the wild wilderness outside, but the tempest had now lost its terrors. The boy and the young pony had fallen asleep and were breathing heavily, the mare was munching the last of the hay, and Christian Christiansson, with his heart at ease and a sense of safety, had settled himself for the night and was dropping off into unconsciousness when there came a thud on the roof of the little house.
He started up and listened, and again he heard the thud-thud over his head. The mare also heard the strange sounds, and ceasing to eat she came across to him, as if in fear, and laid her head upon his legs. It was not at first that he realized that the sounds were human footsteps and that somebody was walking on the roof, but as soon as he did so he cried out to know who was there, and a voice that was like a voice out of a grave answered, "Let me in."
He removed the saddles with which he had barricaded the door and opened it. There was then another doorway of the snow that had fallen since he entered, but in a little while he had cut it away with the spade that hung on the wall for that purpose. At the next moment a man crossed the threshold--a man and a horse.
IX
"Oh, God! What a night," said the stranger. He seemed to be scared and awe-stricken by the uproar he had come out of.
When Christian Christiansson had closed and barricaded the door afresh the darkness seemed denser than ever.