A dark flush burned in his cheeks as he approached the group; he glanced about him guardedly under his brows.

The men made no sign.

Olof picked up his pole from the grass, and began slowly wiping off the dew, eyeing the men watchfully as he did so.

They stood about, apparently unconcerned.

He bit his lips.  Was he to let it pass off like this?

He walked past them, with a burning glance.

As he did so, a low laugh was heard on the edge of the group.

Next moment came the sound of a heavy blow, and the jester measured his length on the grass.

“You—­what’s that for?  Who d’you think you are, young devil’s brat, what?” Two men came at him with a rush.

Olof gripped the first by the collar and crutch, and flung him head foremost through the air.  Then, taking the other as swiftly, he lifted him high overhead, and threw him down like a crumpled rag.

“You swine—­you filthy brutes!” His voice quivered with rage, his eyes burned like fire, and he raised his clenched fists threateningly.  “Come on, the lot of you; I’ve more to settle with you yet.”

There was an angry murmur from the crowd, but it died away as a calm, manly voice spoke up: 

“Seems to me, young man, you’ve settled fairly enough already for a bit of fun and no harm meant.  And if you’re as good a man as I take you for, you’ll see yourself ’twas not done the way you seem to take it.  We’ve all been sort of proud of that little lass, and till now there’s never one of us passed through her door, though there’s many that would if they could.  And when a bit of a chap from God knows where comes along, and he’s found sitting in there like her lord and master....”

“And what’s that to you?” Olof stepped forward threateningly.

“Quiet, lad, you’ve no call to shout,” went on the other calmly.  “I’m not meaning to quarrel with you.  We’ve known that girl, I say, since we were youngsters together, and you’re a stranger here.  And it’s like to do her harm.  Leave her alone, I say, and don’t go making her a byword in folk’s mouths, for the sake of one that comes and goes so light and easy as you.”

“Stranger, you say?” Olof crossed his arms defiantly.  “You know who I am well enough.  And you’re the men to talk of a girl’s honour to me—­you that hang about outside her window at night—­a nice lot to protect her!  Mark my words, the lot of you.  I go where I please, if ’twas to a princess in a palace.  And I’ll go the way I went last night as long as I’m here in the place.  And as sure as I stand here, if one of you shows his head outside that window, or dares to say a coarse word—­ay, or so much as a look to hurt her, I’ll thrash him till he can’t stand on his feet.”

He turned and walked proudly up the hill.  The men gazed after him without a word.

AT SUNRISE