“I hope father is not home,” said she, “else he will beat me again.  I only want my Niels.”

And she gave a curious little whistle that Niels had taught her as a signal; but no answer came back.  So she crept gently up to the tent, drew aside the scarlet curtain that hung before the opening, and looked in.

Meanwhile, let us go back to Haakon at the fair.

As father Peder led Hansa away, he turned again to the booth, and being soon joined by some friendly Lapps, spent the night, and far on into the next day, in games and wild sports (such as abound at the fair) with them.

At last, a thought of home seemed to come to him, and, heedless of all cries and exclamations from his companions, he hurried away.  The long road was passed as in a kind of dream, and, almost ere he knew it, he stood before his tent, with Niels’ frightened eyes looking into his, and Niels’ eager voice crying: 

“Oh, father! where is Hansa?  What have you done with my sister?”

“Be silent, boy!” said Haakon, sternly.  “Your sister is well, but—­she will never come back to the tent again!”

Then, as if suddenly a true knowledge of his crime flashed upon him, he buried his face in his hands, and tears, that for many years had been strangers to his eyes, trickled slowly down his rough brown cheeks, and so, not daring to meet his boy’s truthful questioning gaze, he told him all.

“Oh, father, let us go for her!  She will surely come back if you are sorry,” cried Niels, eagerly.

“You cannot, for, alas!  I know neither her new master’s name nor whither he went,” said Haakon.

Then Niels, in despair, threw himself down on his bed and wept bitterly—­wept, till at last, all exhausted with the force of his grief, he slept.  How long he knew not, for in the Lapp’s tent was nothing to mark the flight of the hours; but he awoke, finally, with a start, sat up and rubbed his eyes, and looked wildly about, saying: 

“Yes, there sits father, just where I left him, and there is no one else here.  But I am sure I heard Hansa whistle to me; no one else knows our signal, and——­Oh! there—­there she is at the door!” and he sprang toward her and clasped her in his arms, crying, “Hansa, my Hansa!  I have had a dream—­such an ugly dream!  How joyful that I am awake at last!  See, father,” he said, leading her to Haakon; “have you, too, dreamed?”

“It was no dream, boy,” said his father; and, turning to Hansa, he asked, more gently than he had ever yet spoken to her, “How came you back, my child?”

Then Hansa, clinging closely to Niels the while, told him all that had befallen her, and of the pleasant home she had found, and added, boldly;

“Father, let me take these kind friends some gifts; we have so much, and I wish to make them happy.”

“Take what you want, child,” said Haakon.  “And see! here is a bag of silver marks; give it to Peder Olsen, and say that each year I will fill it anew for him, so that he shall never more want.”  Then, turning to Niels, he added:  “Go you, too, with Hansa.  Surely those kind people will give you a home as well.  It is better for you both that you have a happier home, and care; and I—­can lead my life best alone.”