Inger started at the sight of him, and asked what made him so pale.

And at that he did not deny having met the Evil One himself.

“Where?” she asked.

“Over there.  Right up towards our place.”

Inger evinced no jealousy on her part.  She did not praise him for it, true, but there was nothing in her manner suggestive of a hard word or a contemptuous kick.  Inger herself, you see, had grown somewhat lighter of heart and kindlier of late, whatever the cause; and now she merely asked: 

“The Evil One himself?”

Isak nodded:  as far as he could see it was himself and no other.

“And how did you get rid of him?”

“I went for him in Jesu name,” said Isak.

Inger wagged her head, altogether overwhelmed, and it was some time before she could get his supper on the table.

“Anyhow,” said she at last, “we’ll have no more of you going out alone in the woods by yourself.”

She was anxious about him—­and it did him good to know it.  He made out to be as bold as ever, and altogether careless whether he went alone or in company; but this was only to quiet Inger’s mind, not to frighten her more than necessary with the awful thing that had happened to himself.  It was his place to protect her and them all; he was the Man, the Leader.

But Inger saw through it also, and said:  “Oh, I know you don’t want to frighten me.  But you must take Sivert with you all the same.”

Isak only sniffed.

“You might be taken poorly of a sudden, taken ill out in the woods—­you’ve not been over well lately.”

Isak sniffed again.  Ill?  Tired, perhaps, and worn out a bit, but ill?  No need for Inger to start worrying and making a fool of him; he was sound and well enough; ate, slept, and worked; his health was simply terrific, it was incurable!  Once, felling a tree, the thing had come down on top of him, and broken his ear; but he made light of it.  He set the ear in place again, and kept it there by wearing his cap drawn over it night and day, and it grew together again that way.  For internal complaints, he dosed himself with treak boiled in milk to make him sweat—­liquorice it was, bought at the store, an old and tried remedy, the Teriak of the ancients.  If he chanced to cut his hand, he treated the wound with an ever-present fluid containing salts, and it healed up in a few days.  No doctor was ever Sent for to Sellanraa.

No, Isak was not ill.  A meeting with the Evil One might happen even to the healthiest man.  And he felt none the worse for his adventure afterwards; on the contrary, it seemed to have strengthened him.  And as the winter drew on, and it was not such a dreadful time to wait till the spring, he, the Man and the Leader, began to feel himself almost a hero:  he understood these things; only trust to him and all would be well.  In case of need, he could exorcise the Evil One himself!