Isak bought a certain sheep with flat ears.  When Brede’s children led it out from the shed, he started bidding at once, and people looked at him.  Isak from Sellanraa was a rich man, in a good position, with no need of more sheep than he had.  Brede’s wife stops selling coffee for a moment, and says:  “Ay, you may buy her, Isak; she’s old, ’tis true, but she’s two and three lambs every blessed year, and that’s the truth.”

“I know it,” said Isak, looking straight at her.  “I’ve seen that sheep before.”

He walks up with Axel Stroem on the way back, leading his sheep on a string.  Axel is taciturn, seemingly anxious about something, whatever it might be.  There’s nothing he need be troubled about that one can see, thinks Isak; his crops are looking well, most of his fodder is housed already, and he has begun timbering his house.  All as it should be with Axel Stroem; a thought slowly, but sure in the end.  And now he had got a horse.

“So you’ve bought Brede’s place?” said Isak.  “Going to work it yourself?”

“No, not for myself.  I bought it for another man.”

“Ho!”

“What d’you think; was it too much I gave for it?”

“Why, no.  Tis good land for a man that’ll work it as it should.”

“I bought it for a brother of mine up in Helgeland.”

“Ho!”

“Then I thought perhaps I’d half a mind to change with him, too.”

“Change with him—­would you?”

“And perhaps how Barbro she’d like it better that way.”

“Ay, maybe,” said Isak.

They walk on for a good way in silence.  Then says Axel: 

“They’ve been after me to take over that telegraph business.”

“The telegraph?  H’m.  Ay, I heard that Brede he’s given it up.”

“H’m,” says Axel, smiling. “’Tis not so much that way of it, but Brede that’s been turned off.”

“Ay, so,” says Isak, and trying to find some excuse for Brede.  “It takes a deal of time to look after, no doubt.”

“They gave him notice to the new year, if he didn’t do better.”

“H’m.”

“You don’t think it’d be worth my while to take it?”

Isak thought for a long while, and answered:  “Ay, there’s the money, true, but still....”

“They’ve offered me more.”

“How much?”

“Double.”

“Double?  Why, then, I’d say you should think it over.”

“But they’ve made the line a bit longer now.  No, I don’t know what’s best to do—­there’s not so much timber to sell here as you’ve got on yours, and I’ve need to buy more things for the work that I’ve got now.  And buying things needs money in ’cash, and I’ve not so much out of the land and stock that there’s much over to sell.  Seems to me I’ll have to try a year at the telegraph to begin with....”

It did not occur to either of them that Brede might “do better” and keep the post himself.

When they reached Maaneland, Oline was there already, on her way down.  Ay, a strange creature, Oline, crawling about fat and round as a maggot, and over seventy years and all, but still getting about.  She sits drinking coffee in the hut, but seeing the men come up, all must give way to that, and she comes out.