When they had rested a while, and Geissler had been inside with Inger and the children, the whole party went up into the hills and stayed out till evening.  Now and again in the course of the afternoon, the folks at Sellanraa could hear an unusually heavy report from the distance, and the train of them came down with new bags of samples.  “Blue copper,” they said, nodding at the ore.  They talked long and learnedly, and consulting a sort of map they had drawn; there was an engineer among them, and a mining expert; one appeared to be a big landowner or manager of works.  They talked of aerial railways and cable traction.  Geissler threw in a word here and there, and each time as if advising them; they paid great attention to what he said.

“Who owns the land south of the lake?” one of them asked Isak.

“The State,” answered Geissler quickly.  He was wide awake and sharp, and held in his hand the document Isak had once signed with his mark.  “I told you before—­the State,” he said.  “No need to ask again.  If you don’t believe me, you can find out for yourself if you please.”

Later in the evening, Geissler took Isak aside and said:  “Look here, shall we sell that copper mine?”

Said Isak:  “Why, as to that, ’twas so that Lensmand bought it of me once, and paid for it.”

“True,” said Geissler.  “I bought the ground.  But then there was a provision that you were to have a percentage of receipts from working or sale; are you willing to dispose of your share?”

This was more than Isak could understand, and Geissler had to explain.  Isak could not work a mine, being a farmer and a clearer of forest land; Geissler himself couldn’t run a mine either.  Money, capital?  Ho, as much as he wanted, never fear!  But he hadn’t the time, too many things to do, always running about the country, attending to his property in the south, his property in the north.  And now Geissler was thinking of selling out to these Swedish gentlemen here; they were relatives of his wife, all of them, and rich men.  “Do you see what I mean?”

“I’ll do it what way you please,” said Isak.

A strange thing—­this complete confidence seemed to comfort Geissler wonderfully in his threadbareness.  “Well, I’m not sure it’s the best thing you could do,” he said thoughtfully.  Then suddenly he was certain, and went on:  “But if you’ll give me a free hand to act on my discretion, I can do better for you at any rate than you could by yourself.”

“H’m,” began Isak.  “You’ve always been a good man to us all here....”

But Geissler frowned at that, and cut him short:  “All right, then.”

Next morning the gentlemen sat down to write.  It was a serious business; there was first of all a contract for forty thousand Kroner for the sale of the mine, then a document whereby Geissler made over the whole of the money to his wife and children.  Isak and Sivert were called in to witness the signatures to these.  When it was done, the gentlemen wanted to buy over Isak’s percentage for a ridiculous sum—­five hundred Kroner.  Geissler put a stop to that, however.  “Jesting apart,” he said.