“I’ll manage.  Couldn’t you go with me a bit?”

“Ay; you shan’t go alone.”

They came to the farm, and the Lensmand stayed the night, sleeping in the little room.  In the morning, he brought out his flask again, and remarked:  “I’m sure this journey’s going to upset my stomach.”  For the rest, he was much the same as last time, kindly, decisive, but fussy, and little concerned about his own affairs.  Possibly it might not be so bad after all.  Isak ventured to point out that the hillside was not all under cultivation yet, but only some small squares here and there.  The Lensmand took the information in a curious fashion.  “I knew that well enough, of course, last time I was here, when I made out the report.  But Brede, the fellow who was with me, he didn’t see it.  Brede, he’s no earthly good.  But they work it out by table.  With all the ground as I entered it, and only so few loads of hay, so few bushels of potatoes, they’ll say at once that it must be poor soil, cheap soil, you understand.  I did my best for you, and you take my word for it, that’ll do the trick.  It’s two and thirty thousand fellows of your stamp the country wants.”

The Lensmand nodded and turned to Inger.  “How old’s the youngest?”

“He’s just three-quarters of a year.”

“And a boy, is he?”

“Yes.”

“But you must see and get that business settled as soon as ever you can,” said he to Isak again.  “There’s another man wants to purchase now, midway between here and the village, and as soon as he does, this’ll be worth more.  You buy now, get the place first, and let the price go up after—­that way, you’ll be getting some return for all the work you’ve put into it.  It was you that started cultivating here at all.  ’Twas all wilderness before.”

They were grateful for his advice, and asked if it was not he himself that would arrange the matter.  He answered that he had done all he could; everything now depended on the State.  “I’m going across to Vesterbotten now, and I shan’t be coming back,” he told them straightforwardly.

He gave Inger an Ort, and that was overmuch.  “You can take a bit of meat down to my people in the village next time you’re killing,” said he.  “My wife’ll pay you.  Take a cheese or so, too, any time you can.  The children like it.”

Isak went with him up over the hills; it was firm, good going on the higher ground, easier than below.  Isak received a whole Daler.

In that manner was it Lensmand Geissler left the place, and he did not come back.  No great loss, folk said, he being looked on as a doubtful personage, an adventurer.  Not that he hadn’t the knowledge; he was a learned man, and had studied this and that, but he lived too freely, and spent other people’s money.  It came out later that he had left the place after a sharp reprimand from his superior, Amtmand Pleym; but nothing was done about his family officially, and they went on living there, a good while after—­his wife and three children.  And it was not long before the money unaccounted for was sent from Sweden, so that Geissler’s wife and children could not be said to be held as hostages, but stayed on simply because it pleased them.