74 WANDERINGS AND MEMORIES 



Nebraska no longer echo the war-chant of the 

 Pawnees, but only gentle voices are heard singing 

 the Battle of Hafur-firth and the Death of Ivar. 



To return now to my sister, whom we left in the 

 last chapter in deep converse with the owner of 

 the Myvatn farm. When we woke up in the 

 morning the old lady was still at it — scanning with 

 eager eye every article of Mary's wardrobe, and 

 audible above the cry of the birds came, " How 

 much that cost ? Will you sell that ? What ?— no I 

 This, love, pretty, pretty. Like see looking-glass 

 again." 



When my sister awoke she found her hostess 

 carefully unpacking her tin box and examining its 

 contents one by one; and not wishing to deprive 

 her of so much innocent amusement, she allowed 

 her to go on while she herself engaged in dressing. 

 Even at breakfast, which we all had together, the 

 old lady could not refrain from admiring several of 

 the choicest articles which she had retained in her 

 lap for closer inspection. It was wonderful how 

 well she understood English, considering the fact 

 that she had not seen a dozen English-speaking 

 people in her life, and that she owed her knowledge 

 of the language entirely to the winter home-teaching. 

 In the end we discussed business. I asked leave 

 to shoot a pair of all the different kinds of ducks, 

 saying that I would pay one kroner apiece for each 

 bird; and to this she readily assented, saying that 

 I could shoot what I liked, but that, out of cour- 

 tesy, permission was necessary from her son, who 

 was part-owner of the farm. This gentleman, a 

 very sulky sort of fellow, turned up, and, after 

 much interpretation through Thorgrimmer, said I 



