Many of the young girls and young men from neighbouring ranches had come
to call upon them, so that there were quite a lot of folk seated on the
grass before the cabins, but they did not find it easy to start
conversation. The men were going home the next day, so the dairymaids
gave them little commissions and bade them take greetings to their
friends in the village. This was nearly all that had been said.
Suddenly the eldest of the dairy girls looked up from her work and said
laughingly:
"There's no need of our sitting here so silent to-night, for we have two
story-tellers with us. One is Clement Larsson, who sits beside me, and
the other is Bernhard from Sunnasjoe, who stands back there gazing toward
Black's Ridge. I think that we should ask each of them to tell us a
story. To the one who entertains us the better I shall give the muffler
I am knitting."
This proposal won hearty applause. The two competitors offered lame
excuses, naturally, but were quickly persuaded. Clement asked Bernhard
to begin, and he did not object. He knew little of Clement Larsson, but
assumed that he would come out with some story about ghosts and trolls.
As he knew that people liked to listen to such things, he thought it
best to choose something of the same sort.
"Some centuries ago," he began, "a dean here in Delsbo township was
riding through the dense forest on a New Year's Eve.
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