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14 WITH CARL OF THE HILL 



I had plenty of time for marvel and reflection, for, 

 though my rifle was ready to cover the hollow below 

 me, no wolves came. Once I fancied I could catch 

 a long-drawn howl upon the night wind, and once it 

 seemed that Talle turned and growled; but whether 

 I was awake or sleeping then I could not say, for 

 the next thing I knew was that the sun was showing 

 between the maples and the forest was ringing like a 

 cathedral choir. 



Carl had twenty miles to go and come, and he 

 did not arrive with the grey horse and the sleigh 

 (wheels are useless in that rough country) till the 

 middle of the day. Then we loaded the elk's big 

 carcass, and after a difficult and devious journey 

 reached the clearing at the fall of night. 



The Sdter in the Hill. 



Now as I write these words in England, on the 

 17th of November, the sparrows, stirred by a sun- 

 shiny morning, are busy above my window building 

 hard at their nests. And many birds, as any one may 

 notice, repeat in a fine autumn the love-passages of 

 the spring. The capercaillie or tjeder does so, 

 and according to Carl it is his almost daily practice 



