Of a sudden, she caught sight of an old woman moving about in among the trees.  It was Finne-Marit, she who was famed as a witch.  “How dreadful that that wicked old woman is still alive,” thought Gertrude, “and that I should come upon her here in the forest!” She tried to slip along very cautiously, so as not to be seen by the witch.  But before Gertrude could get past, the old woman looked up.

“Hi, there!” the old woman shouted.  “Wait a bit, and you’ll see something!” In a twinkling, Finne-Marit was in the road and on her knees almost in front of Gertrude.  Then, with her forefinger, she drew a circle in the carpet of fir needles, at the centre of which she placed a shallow brass bowl.

“Now she’s going to do some conjuring,” thought Gertrude.  “Why, then it must be true that she is a witch!”

“Look down into the bowl!” said Finne-Marit, “and maybe you’ll see something.”  When Gertrude glanced down, she gave a start.  Mirrored in the bowl, she saw plainly the face of Ingmar.  Immediately the old woman handed her a long needle.  “See here,” she said; “take this and pierce his eyes.  Do this to him because he has played you false.”  Gertrude hesitated a little, but felt strongly tempted.  “Why should he fare well, and be rich and happy, while you suffer?” said the old dame.  With that Gertrude was seized by an uncontrollable desire to do the ogre’s bidding, and lowered the needle.  “Mind you stick him right in the eye!” said the witch.  Whereupon Gertrude quickly drove the needle, first into one and then into the other of Ingmar’s eyes.  In so doing, she noticed that the needle went far down-not as though it had come into contact with metal, but rather as if it had penetrated some soft substance.  When she drew it out, there was blood on it.

Gertrude, seeing blood on the needle, thought she had really put out Ingmar’s eyes.  Then she was so overcome by remorse for what she had done, and so frightened, that she woke up.

She lay for a long while, trembling and weeping, before she was able to convince herself that it was only a dream.  “May God preserve me from any thought of vengeance!” she moaned.

She had barely quieted down and dropped off to sleep again, when the dream recurred.

Once more she wandered along the narrow paths toward the grazing ground.  This time, too, the cows had strayed, and she went into the forest to look for them.  Again she came to the beautiful road, and saw the sunbeams playing on the moss.  Then she suddenly recalled all that had just happened to her in a dream, and grew terribly frightened lest she should meet the old witch again.  Seeing nothing of her, she felt greatly relieved.

All at once she seemed to see the earth between a couple of moss tufts open.  Suddenly a head appeared.  Then she saw the body of a tiny little man work its way up out of the earth, and all the while the little man was making a buzzing and humming noise.  By that she knew whom she had encountered.  It was Humming Pete, of course, who was said to be a bit queer in his head.  Sometimes he used to stay down in the village, but during the summer he always lived in a mud cave in the forest.