“Who was Norrska?” interrupted Carl.
“The good woman that came out of the house. She took them down, and when they were all in a heap at the foot of the tree she began to carry them off to the alpebod—that is the little storehouse I spoke of. Then she went back into the hut for a minute, and when she came out again she had on a long-sleeved grey woollen jacket, and her luur in her hand.”
“What’s that?” said Carl.
“The luur is a long trumpet-shaped thing, made of hollow pieces of wood, or pieces of birch bark, tied together, and four or five feet long.”
“What was it for?” said Carl.
“Why you shall hear, if you will have patience,” said the cone. “Norrska raised the luur with one hand, and putting her mouth to the little end there came forth of the other sundry sweet and loud sounds, which echoed back and forth among the rocks till they died away, far up the mountain.”
“But I say,” said Carl, “what for?”
And he took hold of the pine cone and gave it a little pinch; but it was pretty sharp and he let go again.
The pine cone settled himself down on the chest, looking just as stiff as ever, and then went on with his story.
“Norrska sounded her luur twice or thrice, and presently the head and horns of a red cow shewed themselves high up among the rocks. Then came in sight her shoulders and fore feet, and her hind feet and tail; and the whole cow began to descend into the valley, while a dun cow’s head shewed itself in just the same place and fashion. But when Norrska had once seen that they were coming she ceased to watch them, and turned to the fall again.